Harry Potter and the Magical Mutants
by Dylan Wolf
Summary: Merging the worlds of Harry Potter and the Marvel Universe (particularly the X-Men), along with Buffy, the Vampire Slayer and Harry Dresden, among other sources. This is not a retelling of the JK Rowlings stories with the mutants thrown in for flavor. This is a completely unique universe using various characters from several universes. Comments welcome and encouraged.
1. Chapter 01 - The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived

Harry reached over swatted the annoying alarm clock that had dared to interrupt his sleep. There was an audible sproing sound as the main spring snapped and the clock gave up its last. Drat. That was the fourth clock this year. His grandparents weren't going to be happy, but it really wasn't his fault. Mechanical and electronic devices just didn't like him lately. In fact, for the last year or so they seemed to have a strange tendency to break in his presence; particularly if he was mad.

Oh, well. There was nothing he could do for it now. He climbed out of bed and stretched languorously, then headed to the small bathroom across the hall from his room in the small house that had been his world for the whole of his young life. Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the hall. It was July. Why had he set his alarm? He didn't have school. Then he remembered. It was the 31st; his birthday; the day he turned thirteen.

Suppressing the urge to shout for joy, he dashed into the bathroom and took a rushed shower. It was going to be a special day. Grandmother Evans told him that his Aunt Rose was coming to help him celebrate, along with her husband, Vernon Dorsey and their son, Doug. They didn't care much for Harry any more than he cared for them. He could deal with them; however, because Grandfather Evans promised Professor Xavier would be there and had a very special gift for him.

The Professor had been a part of Harry's life for as long as he could remember. Normally very proper and reserved man, the Professor had a wonderful sense of humor when he chose to show it, as well as an incredible imagination. Harry always loved listening to the Professor's stories growing up; still did.

Clad in well worn, but comfortable athletic shoes, jeans and the t-shirt the Professor had bought for him at the ZZ Top concert he'd taken him to the year before, Harry barely restrained himself as he descended the stairs. Of course, there was no running down the stairs in his grandfather's house. It was a rule; one of many.

Harry loved his grandparents. They'd raised him since his parents died in a car crash the Christmas after his second birthday. They had several pictures of his mother at various ages around. In fact one sat on his night stand. They didn't have any pictures of his father for some reason, although they told him he was the spitting image of the man who stole their daughter's heart.

The Evans' were already well into retirement when Harry was brought to them eleven years earlier. His grandfather was an austere man who brooked no foolishness from his grandson. He often corrected Harry, but rarely complimented him. That just made earning such a compliment all the more valuable and memorable. His grandmother was a stern disciplinarian as well, but fair. She had a disapproving stare that could have made Adolf Hitler repent. Harry had to work to please either of them, but it was worth it when he did.

At the foot of the stairs, he was greeted by the smell of his grandfather's pipe and morning coffee at the breakfast table and that of his grandmother's French toast cooking in the kitchen. Harry loved his grandmother's French toast and she well knew it, which made her gesture this morning all the more special.

"Good morning, Grandfather," he said respectfully as he entered the dining room.

"Morning, boy," Robert Evans responded. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you, sir." He met the old man's eyes, nodded, then headed into the kitchen to help his grandmother.

"Good morning, Grandmother," he said, then leaned in to kiss her cheek as she turned towards him. "Thank you."

He didn't need to say what for. She knew. She always knew.

"It's your birthday," she huffed turning back to her cooking. "I figured that was a good enough reason to make a special effort. Take that carafe of orange juice and the syrup to the table, then set it for me. Breakfast will be ready in about five minutes."

He obeyed quickly, carefully and without comment. Whatever their failings may have been, his grandparents had raised Harry well. They'd groomed him into an intelligent, quiet, well-mannered and disciplined young man. It was an accomplishment they were quietly most proud of.

"When are we expecting the Professor and the Dorsey's," Harry asked a half hour later as they finished breakfast and he began to bus the dishes.

"About noon," his grandmother told him. "Just leave the dishes to soak in the sink. I'll get to them later. You should go out and spend the morning with your friends. Just be home by eleven."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. It was his job to fill, run and empty the dishwasher, but if she was going to let him off the hook, he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As he headed outside a few minutes later, Harry checked the clock. It was a little before eight am, leaving him with three hours to kill. He decided to head to the neighborhood park and enjoy the sun for a while.

Harry was a somewhat solitary boy by nature. He didn't have many friends and no really close ones, so there was no one he cared to share the morning with. He wasn't exactly ostracized at school; more like ignored. Despite his small stature and glasses, even the school bullies rarely even acknowledged his existence and almost never harassed him. It was like he was so far out of cool that he was beneath their notice. Strangely, he didn't really mind.

He was neither a goth nor a rocker. Most his peers would find his eclectic taste in music strange if they bothered to ask. He was smart, but nowhere near the top of his class. He wasn't particularly talented at anything, so most of the cliques were out. He didn't even play chess. In a Middle School world where everyone seemed to have a niche, Harry was the odd man out.

It wasn't that he was unmotivated or without interests. In fact, many things interested him. None of them rose to the level of a passion, however. He was the quiet kid that everyone liked, but nobody actually knew. If asked, any of his classmates would say Harry was nice enough, but a little odd. Otherwise, they didn't have much of an opinion about him.

In the park, Harry went to his favorite tree and climbed to his customary perch. Through the leaves, he watched a few wispy clouds drift lazily across the blue summer sky. From there, he could hear the other teens playing basketball and soccer nearby. From the play area, he caught the chatter of younger children playing on the swings and merry-go-round. The smell of freshly mowed and watered grass drifted up to him from below. Leaning back against the rough bark of the tree, he closed his eyes and just let his senses and mind wander.

When he opened his eyes again, he took a quick glance at the clock on the park's recreation center. It was past ten thirty, so he jumped down and headed for home. He never remembered what he experienced in his cerebral wanderings, but he always emerged from them refreshed and calmed.

Arriving home at 10:59, Harry wiped his feet carefully on the mat. From the den, he heard the sound of his grandfather talking to someone. He couldn't pick up what they were saying, but he recognized the other man's voice. Knocking respectfully on the jamb framing the open entrance to the room, Harry thought about the Professor. Xavier was a tall, athletic man, despite the wheelchair. His head was completely bald, but he had a well maintained half beard that was an almost silvery shade of blonde. As always, he wore slacks, a turtle neck shirt and a sport coat with patches on the elbows.

"Harry, my boy," the Professor smiled ebulliently as he gestured for Harry to join them. "I can't believe how you've grown. I can barely believe it's been eleven years since I brought you to live with your grandparents. Now, look at you; thirteen and ready to take on the world."

"You brought me to live here, sir?" Harry could hardly contain his curiosity as he shook the older man's hand.

"Didn't I ever tell you that?" Xavier seemed surprised. "I must be getting senile in my old age. Yes, Harry. Your parents were students of mine at one time. Later they became good friends. I was the one that found you after they died. It was I who decided to have you raised here. I can't believe I never told you that. Most peculiar."

Harry was speechless, but Xavier simply smiled. "The stories I could tell you. We'll have to take the time soon. A boy should know the kind of people his parents were; particularly when they were people like James and Lily Potter."

"I'd like that, sir," Harry managed to stammer. "I'd like that a lot."

The arrival of his aunt and her family ruined the moment. Almost immediately, they exiled him and Doug to his room. His Aunt Rose joined his grandmother in the kitchen and Uncle Vernon joined his grandfather and the Professor in the den.

Harry and Doug had absolutely nothing in common. Doug was big and brash, a loud mouth and a bit of a bully. The second they were alone, he started to complain that Harry didn't even have a television, game console or computer in his room.

"There's a TV and computer in the den I use when I need to." Harry shrugged.

"I have my OWN television, Blu-ray player, game console, desktop and laptop in my room," Doug bragged, thinking he could ruin Harry's birthday by making him jealous.

Harry knew his aunt and uncle spoiled Doug rotten. It was a frequent subject of conversation between his grandparents when they didn't think he was listening. They were concerned that their daughter and her husband gave Doug everything, so he appreciated nothing. They felt their younger daughter married a blustering fool and was determined to raise Doug to be a carbon copy of his father.

With Doug alternating between complaining and bragging, Harry sat back on his bed and let his mind drift like he had in the park and many times before. This time the feeling was different, however. He immediately found himself lifting from his body and floating out of the room.

It was a strange sensation, but for some reason he wasn't afraid. He didn't want to be trapped in his room with Doug. He wanted to be in the den with the Professor and that was where he went. He drifted through the house to the den where his grandfather was refereeing an argument between Uncle Vernon and Professor Xavier.

"It's all foolishness if you ask me," Vernon bellowed, as if volume added weight to his position. "Arcane Science and magical mutations be damned. I bet it's nothing more than some kind of conspiracy and parlor tricks."

The Professor templed his fingers before him as he spoke calmly. "However you might wish it was merely foolishness, parlor tricks and conspiracy, Mr. Dorsey, we all know that isn't so, and all the bluster in the world isn't going to change that fact. More and more children with arcane gifts are being born every day. My magical world and your mundane world are being dragged ever closer . . . whether people in either world would have it or not. That is why I wanted Harry to experience both worlds, and why I brought him here after his parents were murdered."

With those words, the jagged scar on Harry's forehead suddenly flared with pain as his mind jerked back in time and memory. It was late at night and snow piled high outside the small house. A man and a woman stood proudly over a crib where a child of about two slept peacefully. The woman was the same person in the picture beside on Harry's nightstand and he realized he really was the spitting image of the man. The child in the crib, he knew, had to be him.

The explosion that rocked the house caught James and Lily by surprise, but they reacted instantly. They both pulled wands and rapidly cast spells. Lily focused on increasing the protective magics around the crib. James ran to confront the intruders. The bedroom door exploded inward as James reached it and a forbidden curse cast before he could react.

"Avada Kedavra," the blue skinned giant spat and Harry saw his father die.

"You'll never get my son, Apocalypse," Lily swore.

"He's already mine." The massive man pointed his wand at the crib and again cast the killing curse.

"No!" Lily threw herself between the Dark Lord and her child even as she uttered a quick counterspell.

Sadly, Apocalypse was too powerful for her and she fell beside her husband. The massively built man stepped up to the crib. He stared down at the still sleeping child. Harry wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain that a one way field of silence surrounded the bed, keeping outside noises from waking the baby, but alerting parents if the child awoke, cried or was in distress.

"Are you the one destined to kill me?" The man laughed harshly. "I think not."

Even as he uttered the spell a third time, his intended victim's eyes opened. They glowed with roiling, coruscating, raw chaos. The curse struck in that instant, scarring the baby, but rebounding on the caster with magnified force. Stumbling back, Apocalypse screamed in horror as his body withered and decayed burnt out by the backlashing energies.

_**Harry.**_ Xavier's voice cut through the memory as if from a far distance.

In an instant, Harry found himself standing next to the Professor, sans wheelchair, on a barren plane that seemed to stretch forever beneath an empty sky. _**Trying to traverse astral space alone is a rather foolish enterprise even with proper training.**_

Harry had only one question and it had nothing to do with his current situation. _**Was that real?**_

_**I'm afraid it was.**_ Xavier's face was and expression of deep sadness. _**I arrived on the scene a few instants later to find your parents and Apocalypse dead and you sleeping peacefully. I was too late to save them, but the Dark Lord seemed to be dead and you had somehow survived a curse that ended the lives of many far more gifted and properly trained opponents.**_

_**Who was he?**_ Something profound inside Harry needed to know; something primal.

_**His name was Tom Riddle.**_ Xavier frowned distastefully at the very mention of the name. _**Although he claimed he was originally born thousands of years ago in ancient Egypt. He insisted his real name was En Sabah Nur. At one time he was my student. The magical community knew him as the Dark Lord Apocalypse. Even today, most people fear to speak his name. They refer to him as "You Know Who". You, on the other hand, are the "Boy Who Lived".**_

_**You sound like you don't believe he's really dead.**_ The observation was void or emotion; almost clinical.

_**That night, I was more concerned with getting you to safety. **_He wasn't surprised that Harry caught that. _**When I returned later, your parents' bodies were undisturbed, but Riddle was nowhere to be found. He certainly seemed dead, but I thought him dead several times before. He has a rather annoying talent for surviving death scenarios.**_

While Harry mulled that over, Xavier figured they should return to the physical world. _**That's not to say he isn't truly dead this time; merely that we don't know. It was fortunate that I sensed your presence in the den and was here to anchor you when you stumbled into the astral realm. When you left your body, you gave your cousin quite a scare. He thought you were dead. His parents have taken him home. The whole affair left him quite traumatized.**_

With those somewhat sarcastic words, they were back in Harry's bedroom looking down at their bodies. The Dorsey's were gone. His grandparents were there and visibly concerned. Both he and Xavier seemed to be unconscious and didn't seem to be breathing.

_**Astralis Accompli,**_ the Professor said with a precise gesture of a wand that hadn't been in his hand before and Harry immediately woke in his body.

"Why didn't you tell me, sir?" While Harry's tone was still respectful, it was also insistent and a little hurt.

"We were going to tell you today." The Professor's response was gentle, but unapologetic. "Telling you sooner wouldn't have made the news easier to bear. In fact, if I could have kept the truth - - and the pain it brings you - - from you longer, I would have. No child or teenager should have to deal with the murder of their parents. For better or worse, I wanted to spare you that as long as possible."

Harry was silent for several moments. He carefully weighed what the Professor had told him. In the end, as much as a small part of him wanted to, he found he couldn't fault the man's logic.

"Thank you for that, sir," he said finally, "but if it's okay, I have a lot of questions. Starting with, what am I?"

"I should think you'd have questions." Xavier laughed sympathetically. "What you are depends on whose perceptions you trust. The mundane world would call you a wizard if they knew people like us existed. I reality, you and I are both mutants; born with unique abilities and the common potential to literally alter reality in a wide variety of ways. In my case, I'm a telepath. I can read and even control peoples' minds and communicate mentally across great distances. It's a gift I use carefully; even sparingly."

"Wow." Harry's mind raced at the possibilities. "Am I a telepath, too?"

"I don't believe so." Xavier smiled obligingly.

Harry wasn't sure if he should be disappointed or not. "What . . . then?"

"Your personal abilities I believe are a good deal more complex and unique than mine," Xavier said, "but more on that a little later. It's your birthday and your grandmother went to some effort to make some of your favorite foods for lunch and bake you a special cake. They and your presents await us downstairs."

Harry suddenly realized his grandparents were right there listening. "I'm sorry I scared you so bad."

Maxine Evans smiled. "I think you can be forgiven . . . this time. We can't hold you responsible for controlling abilities you didn't even know you had. Now that you do know, however, you need to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yes, ma'am," he responded immediately.

Grandmother Evans' chocolate cakes were things of legend in the small upstate New York town where Harry grew up. She knew how much he enjoyed them and out did herself for his thirteenth birthday. She'd even made a macaroni and cheese casserole that had lots of diced polish sausage and more cheese than normal because he liked it that way. He was overwhelmed and impulsively hugged and kissed her.

"Thank you, Grandmother. It looks wonderful."

"You're welcome, Harry." Her voice held more emotion than she'd shown since he was hospitalized with appendicitis and got a really bad infection. "We don't say this nearly often enough, but your grandfather and I are very proud of you and the fine young man you're becoming."

His grandfather nodded gruffly, which said more than any words to Harry.

"It's time for me to leave, isn't it?" The conclusion seemed obvious. "Professor Xavier, in the den, you said you wanted me to experience both worlds. Grandmother, you haven't made this much of a big deal over my birthday since I was seven."

Xavier smiled. He'd always known Harry was perceptive and had deductive abilities beyond his years. The boy was also a good deal smarter than mundane IQ tests would ever be able to measure.

"I'm headmaster at Xavier's Academy for the Gifted. It's a school for mutants. Now that you're old enough to attend, I'm happy to invite you to join our student body. The school year doesn't start until early September, but new student orientation is already in progress."

Harry was speechless. This had to be the big surprise he'd been promised. He could hardly believe it.

"Eat your lunch and cake, Harry," his grandfather said, "It'll give you time to process all of this."

Lunch, cake and ice cream occupied them for the next half hour. Once the table was cleared, they adjourned to the den where four gifts awaited Harry. He decided to open the Dorsey's gift first and save the good ones for after.

True to form, Aunt Rose gave him a comb and brush set, and some hair care products. She probably picked it all up at her local pharmacy. It was a subtle jab, of course. Harry had a good brush, but no matter what he did with it, his hair refused to be tamed. His grandparents had given up on it years ago and Aunt Rose knew it. He'd have to write her a thank you letter later, anyway; along with an apology for scaring Doug so badly.

His grandparents' gift was a flat rectangular box that weighed too much to be clothes. He opened it to find a new laptop computer. He didn't know what to say. It was the most wonderful gift he ever received.

"You'll need if for school," his grandfather told him. "Charles promises it can survive your issue with electronics. You should get a new alarm clock from the same manufacturers."

"Thank you, sir." Harry hugged the old man who hugged him back a little more tightly than normal.

"Thank you, Grandmother." He noticed a hint of a tear when he kissed her.

The next gift was a flat square box and very light. Inside was a gossamer fine sheet of shimmering cloth.

"It's beautiful, Professor." Harry's tone showed his confusion on what he was expected to do with such a gift; beautiful as it was.

"It belonged to your father," Xavier explained. "It's an invisibility cloak; a valuable item and one not to be abused. I give it to you because it's what he would have wanted and because I'm sure I can trust you to use it more responsibly than he did."

"Yes, sir." Harry unfolded the cloak and draped it over his shoulders; marveling as his body vanished beneath it. "I'll take good care of it. You'll have to tell me about how he used it someday."

"I'm not sure I want to give you any ideas, lad." Xavier laughed. "Your father was a bit of a scamp as a student."

He then handed Harry his final gift; a long, thin box. "This, too, was your father's. I know not how and when he came by the cloak, but what's in that box has been in the Potter family for generations."

The box contained a dark wooden wand about a foot in length. It was polished to a reflective sheen and almost leaped into Harry's hand as soon as it was free from its containment. As he held it in awe, a corona of light surrounded Harry and his hair flared out slightly with static. In his hand, it felt like a thing alive; like a part of his body denied him far too long.

"It's made of rowan wood and contains a phoenix feather." Xavier nodded. "A wand is used to focus and even magnify the power within you. This one is particularly adept at both. It's said that no one who has used it in battle has ever lost. Had your father been able to employ it, he could well have been the one fated to destroy the Dark Lord."

"I don't know what to say, sir." Harry suddenly realized there was something else in the box. Removing the padding, he discovered an antique key. "Thank you."

"That's the key to the Potter family vault at Gringott's Bank in Manhattan. Under the guidelines of your father's Will, until your twenty-fifth birthday, you'll need to be accompanied by me or another teacher at the school in order to use that key, but you are the sole heir of the entire Potter estate."

"I think that's enough for one afternoon." Robert Evans rose from his seat. "Any more surprises and the boy's head will explode."

"We'll talk more after dinner, Harry." The Professor agreed. "Time enough then for you to make the necessary decisions."

Harry spent the next several hours alone in his room and deep in thought. When his grandmother called him to dinner, he wasn't hungry, but he responded obediently. It was an extremely uncomfortable meal. Harry's grandparents were dealing with the prospect of no longer having him around. Harry was still processing everything that had happened in the past ten hours. Professor Xavier knew he was an outsider in this dynamic. He simply tried to make sure he didn't interfere or intrude into the thoughts of any of his hosts. It didn't make for a lot of snappy dinner conversation, but no one seemed to notice.

After the meal, Maxine cleared the table and sent Harry to the den with the Professor. It was time for their talk and his decision. Did he even have a choice?

"I'm going to ask you a rather foolish seeming question," Xavier said as Harry sat down on the couch next to the laptop which was still in the box, "but it's an important one. How are you?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not really sure, sir. I'm a little confused, but I guess I'm okay."

"That's actually a good start." Xavier found the strangest things amusing sometimes. "Are there any questions for which I might help supply answers?"

"Why me, Professor?" Harry's tone was calm, even analytical. "Why did Apocalypse think I would be the one to kill him?"

"That's a far more involved question than it might seem." Xavier slipped subconsciously and naturally into the role of teacher. "To understand the answer, you must have some grounding in the arts of divination and precognition. They're both inexact studies to say the least, but valuable nonetheless, as they give glimpses into the future if interpreted correctly."

He folded his hands in his lap. "Precognition is actually a telepathic ability; more observational than anything else. It can be surprisingly accurate short term, but is subject to misinterpretation; particularly the more distant the event being predicted is in the future. It's most useful for predicting an opponent's actions in combat."

He paused. "Divination is far less accurate in the short term, but can on occasion, through study of large scale societal trends, predict events occurring on a global or even national level. Sadly, despite the delusions of the gullible, it's of only minimal personal value. It can predict most likely outcomes of certain actions, but simply knowing the probabilities alters the equation itself entirely."

Sensing Harry's confusion, Xavier got to the point. "You're wondering what all of this has to do with your question. On rare occasions, the two arts combine to create some truly astounding results. Such an occurrence happened the night you were born. A prophecy was rendered and recorded. I was present when it happened. As we discovered too late, so was an agent of Apocalypse."

"A prophecy predicted that I would kill Apocalypse?" Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Actually," the Professor corrected him, "it predicted that a child born that day would. Tom was never one to leave contingencies uncovered. He began hunting down and killing every child born in the community that day. Given his prejudices, it likely never occurred to him that the prophecy could just as easily have referred to the child of mundane parents, but that's beside the point. Your parents were forewarned and took extreme measures to protect you. Unfortunately, they trusted the secret of their location to a friend who betrayed them."

"Who?" Harry thought he'd found someone to focus all the frustration, anger and rage he didn't want on.

"His name was Peter Pettigrew." Xavier nipped that in the bud immediately. "He was killed a short time later by a good man who let rage, anger and guilt destroy his own life. Don't make that mistake, Harry. Even for long lived people like us, life is too short to waste it on things like vengeance and guilt. Your parents wouldn't have wanted that for you."

Harry felt like someone had taken a bucket of ice cold water and dumped it on the burning coals of his rage. The anger surprisingly gave way to a profound sense of relief. It felt like the unbearable burden he hadn't realized he picked up that morning suddenly lifted. He could breathe again.

"Thank you, sir." He actually smiled for the first time since that morning.

Xavier smiled back and placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I did little more than point you in the right direction. You did the rest."

In the wake of the anger, a wave of exhaustion washed over Harry, but he still had questions. "You said my powers were unique. What can you tell me about them?"

Xavier observed him carefully for a moment. "Given what happened to Apocalypse and other more recent events your grandparents told me about, I believe your powers derive from chaos itself. Strangely, this is an ability shared by both the other surviving children born the same day as you. We have no idea what powers those Apocalypse killed would have developed, but even three in a generation with that potential has never happened before; much less three in the same day."

"Ours is a world of order, Harry." Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair. "Even the Arcane Sciences have rules, equations and patterns that can be violated only at great risk to the caster and his environment. Apocalypse was a being of order; order taken to the extreme and abused. He had a gift for finding order and pattern where others saw only utter chaos, as well as weaknesses in structures and organizations."

Harry always appreciated the way the Professor never talked down to him, but it sometimes took effort to not get lost in the man's words. Fortunately, Xavier was well aware of this and a good gauge of how much he could push a student's mind.

"Tom Riddle was a believer in what is called 'social and genetic Darwinism'. He wasn't the author of the theory, but he became one of its most fanatical adherents. He was convinced that only those who were strong enough to survive had the right to do so. In his view, the weak were a burden on society that should be eliminated to make way for the strong."

He paused briefly, but continued when Harry nodded. "By his theory, mutants are stronger than mundanes and pureblood mutants are the strongest of all. Never mind that his own father was a mundane. He wanted a very organized, controlled and brutal hierarchy with him at the very top. The world he would have created, would have no place for mundanes or what he and his followers called mudbloods; mutants with two mundane parents."

He shook his head bitterly. "Even half breeds like Tom, himself, would have trouble in his world. This is why he claimed his mother must have cheated on his father with another pureblood and he was born of that union. It's pure delusion, of course."

"Would I be considered a pureblood," Harry asked.

"It depends on whose definition you use," the Professor considered. "While the Evans family never produced a mutant before your mother, the Potters are one of the oldest families in our community. Most will consider you a pureblood, but those who don't like you, are afraid of you, or want to belittle you, will call you a half breed. Does it really matter?"

"No," Harry answered honestly. "I was just curious."

"Good." The older man smiled proudly at his protégée. "I didn't think it would. Besides, your mother put the lie to Riddle's theory. Born to a family without a trace of mystical blood, she was one of the most powerful and versatile casters I ever trained. She was particularly adept at defensive and protective spells. While your father, James was extremely capable in his own right, particularly as a duelist, he was wont to tell anyone he met that Lily had the real power in the family."

"What were they like?" Harry's voice was small and quiet.

The affection Charles felt for Harry and his parents was evident in his eyes. "Lily Evans was a bright, caring young woman; mature and respectful, but opinionated and strong willed at the same time. She knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to try anything. She loved learning and was a favorite of nearly every teacher at the school. Her laugh and attitude were infectious, but you didn't want to get on her bad side. She was normally quite even tempered, but her wrath when provoked was legendary."

He paused, then moved on as Harry listened raptly. "James Potter . . . what can I say about James? I already used the word scamp. He was a member of the first Marauders. Students at Xavier's are divided into teams. Your father, along with his friends: Sirius, Remus, Peter and the Jeffries twins, Lionel and Madison, along with Nymphadora Tonks and a few other girls formed their own new team in their second years. They were the bane of my existence as often as they were a source of almost endless and nigh legendary amusement. Every one of them was a prankster of the first order, but your father was the best and the worst of them."

Harry almost laughed at the image.

A glint of mirth sparkled in Xavier's eye at the memory. "Since your actions either earn or cost points for your team, the Marauders were a conundrum. Your father in particular cost his team more points on his own than most teams lost as a whole. If he hadn't earned even more points for creative problem solving and other talents at the same time, the others might even have complained. I doubt it, however. They certainly made the old school interesting."

He sobered. "The only things your father loved more than your mother, pranks and practical jokes, were flying and playing Quidditch. He still holds school records for both; as well as for spending the most time in detention in a single year of any student."

"Quidditch?" Harry's attention perked up.

"It's a flying and strategy sport popular in the mutant community," Xavier explained. "It originated in Britain and is quite complicated. You'll learn more when you get to the school. Your father was a natural. I have faith you will be as well."

He returned to his story. "James and Lily were total opposites at first. We all wondered what she saw in him, but bright girls seem to have this inexplicable tendency to fall for bad boys. He was an eternal child, but she turned him into a man I was proud to call friend. He, in turn, brought her out of her intellectual shell and taught her to free her spirit. From the moment they met, their fates were sealed and no one else existed for either of them."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly. "Until today, I'd only seen pictures of my mother and didn't even know what my father looked like except that I took after him. Now, I think I actually know them; at least a little."

"They were good people and well worth knowing." Xavier reached into his jacket and came out with a parchment envelope bearing the school crest on its wax seal and Harry's name in calligraphy on the other side. "This is your official invitation to attend Xavier's should you decide to do so."

"I have a choice?" Harry let more surprise than intended slip into his voice.

"We all have choices, Harry." Xavier's expression was calm. "Attendance at Xavier's is voluntary. In fact we have to turn down many applicants each year. I hope you will attend. I think it will be best for you and believe it's what your parents would want. I'll not force you, however."

"What will happen if I decide to stay here?" He'd already made his decision, but Harry was still curious.

"Alternatives would be worked out to train you here." Xavier could read Harry's decision on his face and surface thoughts. "Given the nature of your unique abilities, training in their use will be required lest you become a danger to yourself and those around you. The school is the easiest and most efficient way to accomplish that; not to mention the safest. If necessary, however, arrangements can be made for you to train independently while pursuing a mundane education."

"As long as I can come home and visit my grandparents on vacations, then," he said, "I'll accept your invitation."

"Excellent." Xavier shook Harry's hand. "I'd like to have you accompany me when I leave in the morning. We can detour to do some shopping for your school supplies. This will give you about a month to adjust to life in the community before you have to deal with lessons as well."

"That's not a lot of time to say goodbye." Harry wasn't sure he was ready to leave just yet.

Xavier understood. "One of the many things I had to agree to before Robert and Maxine would permit me to invite you was that you'd visit for Labor Day before the school year started, as well as coming home for Christmas and summer break. They agree that the sooner you start acclimating, the better."

Harry was silent, but eventually nodded his consent.

The Professor smiled. "I've already made the necessary arrangements. Tonight, you need to pack whatever clothes and personal things you want to take with you. Uniforms are worn for classes, meals, assemblies and school events, but you're free to dress as you wish the rest of the time . . . within the constraints of reason and propriety, of course. We had to add that last proviso to the school rules after a particular stunt by your father and his friends. Fortunately, all the fig leaves stayed in place, or it could have been . . . revealing."

Harry started laughing and couldn't stop. It was a healthy, cleansing laugh. Professor Xavier quickly joined in.

**Writer's Notes:**

**This story will primarily cross the universe of Harry Potter with that of Marvel Comics and take a great deal of license with both. First off, I changed several of the stranger British names from the books to be a bit more pleasing to my very American ear. I hope Ms. Rowling doesn't mind. I also changed the roles of most of the established Potter characters that I used, as well as those of nearly all of the Marvel characters. I disconnected most (definitely not all) of the Potter characters from the school, but may appear in various other roles. Marvel characters have replaced them in the central supporting rolls.**

**I will also be including the White Council, Nevernever and Wardens from Jim Butcher's Harry Dresden novels. I further intend to include Slayers and Vampires from the Buffy/Angel Universe. Both of these are secondary, however.**

**Harry, Hermione (now Helen), Neville (now Neville Long), Luna and the Weasley family (now the Wesley family) are the only characters I endeavored to keep as close as possible to their original design, although Harry was raised by his maternal grandparents, instead of the Dursley's, who appear as the Dorsey's. Everything else is subject to my admittedly bent imagination. Note, however, that I am NOT a Ron basher and will NOT be portraying him as a total idiot. He has occasional bouts of envy and frequent relapses of foot in mouth disease, but what teenager isn't?**

**The biggest change is the merger of mutants and wizards. In addition to having unique personal powers, all mutants can access the forces of what they call Arcane Science. Through force of will, they can alter the universe around them in various ways. Naturally, since the universe dislikes being altered at a whim, this is a very dangerous endeavor; thus the need for wands, incantations and such to help focus the energies.**

**Finally, please note that this story in no way presents anything close to real magic. As a Christian, I believe that such forces exist and I know that anyone who messes with them - - no matter what they call their "art" - - is a fool. I've seen too much in the last half century to doubt. Real magic is empowered by very real demonic forces that use it to ensnare and destroy those foolish enough to play with things they should stay well away from. This is a fantasy; a made up story and should be treated accordingly.**


	2. Chapter 02 - The Other Harry

Chapter 2: The Other Harry

Morning came far too soon for Harry, after a night with too little sleep. When his grandmother called him for breakfast, he was repacking for the fifteenth time. He didn't have many personal belongings, but he had no idea what he would need. In the end, he packed the basics. He figured he'd have a better idea what he'd need when he came home for Labor Day. Now he just packed clothes, birthday gifts and a few pictures.

After breakfast, Harry's grandparents took him and the Professor to the local train station. There, between platforms nine and ten, they had a quick farewell with many hugs and tears.

"Take care of yourself, boy." Robert's voice cracked just slightly as he hugged his grandson. "Learn your lessons well and do what Professor Xavier and other teachers tell you to do."

"I will, sir." Harry was biting back a few tears, himself.

Robert turned to Xavier, his voice becoming tense and fierce. "Take good care of my grandson, Charles. I'm holding you to your promise to keep him safe."

The Professor shook the proud man's hand. "I'll protect him with my own life if necessary."

Maxine knew she would start bawling if she said anything, so she hugged Harry, held his face between her hands for a moment, kissed him on the forehead and hugged him again.

Harry understood. "I'll write as soon as I get there and every week. I'll be home for Labor Day before you know it. I promise."

Not wanting Harry to see her cry, she turned to her husband and buried her face in his shoulder. As they stood there together, Xavier led Harry to the column between the two platforms.

"Okay, Harry," Xavier said as he rolled forward. "Place your hand on my shoulder and follow me."

Harry was curious, but complied. Before he could react, they passed through the pillar. He felt a tingle of energy as the world around them changed. He found himself standing on Platform 9¾. He looked around in shock and wonder, but his attention first fell on Xavier. His powered wheelchair had transformed into a high tech hover-chair.

"Cool," was all he could think to say.

"My chair is designed to adapt to my environment," Xavier explained. "It becomes a normal chair in the presence of mundanes. It was a gift from a group of industrious students who built it for a senior project."

Harry was listening, but he was also looking all around them and trying very hard not to gawk. They were standing on a nineteenth century railroad platform. A period appropriate train was loading passengers a few yards in front of them. Nothing else around even had a reference in Harry's young mind. The sky above was a kaleidoscope of colors; many of which had no names in his vocabulary. A tunnel stretched out ahead of the train. It seemed carved into the air itself with walls made of swirling clouds that weren't really clouds.

"Harry." Xavier's voice suddenly broke through Harry's reverie.

"Sorry, Professor." He shook his head. "This place is . . . distracting. Where are we?"

Xavier smiled and nodded. "We've crossed into the Nevernever; realm of the fey. Normally, it isn't a place you'd want to enter unprepared. The physical laws of time, mass and space don't work the same here. If you get lost here, it's likely you'll never find your way back to our realm."

He floated up to the conductor, handed him a few coins from a purse he pulled from inside his coat, then led Harry onto the train. "As dangerous as the Nevernever is - - what with the eternal cold war between the Winter and Summer Courts - - there are ways to traverse it safely. We call these the Paths and this network of trains makes use of those Paths thanks to ancient treaties your ancestor helped establish."

He backed his chair into a cabin and motioned for Harry to have a seat on one of the benches to either side of the chamber. "It's the fastest way we've found to get from point A to point B. This train takes us to Manhattan. Don't get too comfortable, though, we may be a stone's throw from the Canadian border, but we'll be there in about five minutes."

Harry was starting to get accustomed to the changes and surprises. He hoped he could keep from drooling as he sat back and tried to absorb all the new things he was discovering.

As they exited Union Station several minutes later, a thin, somewhat seedy, even disreputable looking young man was waiting for them, leaning against an old VW bus painted with slightly fading and peeling Day-Glo paints that made Harry's eyes hurt.

"Hello, Stan." The Professor greeted the young man. "Harry, this is Stan Pike. If you're ever anywhere in New York City and in need of help, focus your mind on him. He'll find you and get you where you need to go; particularly if you're in danger."

He turned back to Stan. "Stan, it's my pleasure to present Mr. Harry Potter."

Stan seemed shocked and even respectfully removed the Brooklyn Dodgers ball cap he was wearing. "Harry . . . THE Harry Potter? Oh, my. It's an honor to meet you, sir; a real honor."

He shook Harry's hand so vigorously that Harry thought he might tear his arm out of its socket. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pike."

Stan quickly opened the van's sliding door and pulled a jury rigged ramp out so the professor could board. When Harry followed, he was in for another surprise. The van inside was huge. In addition to row upon row of seats that were more easy chairs and recliners, further back, there were a dozen or more beds; with canopies and curtains, no less. Crystal chandeliers even hung from the ceiling to illuminate the interior.

There were about twenty passengers already on the bus; an interesting mix of humanity to say the least. A heavyset man in a bowler with muttonchops that adjoined his bushy moustache was reading a newspaper. A picture of a woman on the back of the paper smiled prettily and actually waved at Harry. He realized this should have shocked him, but it didn't. Today, it was par for the course.

A woman a few rows back was feeding pet treats to a small dragon-like creature perched on her shoulder. An old man wearing a blue nightshirt and a lavender night cap was snoring loudly in the first row of beds. A younger man trying to sleep on a bed in the same row pulled out a wand, flicked it in a pattern and uttered a few words Harry didn't quite catch. Suddenly, the snoring silenced. The young man plopped back down, fluffed his pillow and settled back to sleep with a satisfied sigh.

Harry shook his head and found a seat . . . just in time as it happened. An instant later, the van lifted straight up, pulling three g's. This lasted about a second, then moved forward at the same impossible instant velocity. Momentum squashed Harry into his seat first one way, then another, but the rest of the passengers barely even seemed to notice.

A shrunken head hanging above the windshield saw his reactions and addressed him in a thick Jamaican accent. "Hold on to your seat. Eet's gonna be a bumpy ride."

In between instantaneous turns of up to ninety degrees without loss of speed, Harry had no chance to ask any questions until Stan stopped to drop off the snorer in the nightshirt and cap. "Professor, how isn't this van making a huge scene and violating the whole secrecy and separation thing?"

Xavier smiled calmly. "Arcane. Stan's van has a high degree of it. All of us have some amount of it and it rubs off on any personal property that's been in our possession for a prolonged length of time. It's what keeps the mundane world from perceiving or interacting with things of our world unless we want them to or do something that directly affects them."

He paused, but continued just as calmly as Stan started moving again. "Some of us have less Arcane than others and have to be more careful. Mine is particularly low. Fortunately, my powers are subtle. I still avoid using them in public if I can. You, on the other hand, have the highest degree of Arcane I've ever encountered. It could have something to do with the spells your parents cast to protect you, but it's still nothing you can count on, so don't get cocky. If I catch you abusing it, I'll see to it that you break your father's record for detentions served."

Harry nodded vigorously as momentum pushed him against the seat, then noticed the pressure wasn't as bad as it first seemed; particularly not if he relaxed and didn't fight it. "I'll be very careful, sir. I promise."

"Good." Xavier nodded and smiled as Stan pulled the bus to another stop.

"McNally's Pub, Greenwich Village," Stan announced. "Your stop, Professor. Mr. Potter, it was a pleasure and an honor to meet you."

"Thank you for the . . . interesting ride, Mr. Pike." Harry climbed out of his seat, picked up his suitcase and backpack. Gratefully stepping out onto the curb, he managed to resist the urge to fall on his knees and kiss the pavement.

As the van vanished, heading off to its next stop, the Professor led Harry to a handicap ramp leading down to a doorway several feet below street level. The neighborhood had once been purely industrial and filled with factories and warehouses. Gentrification years earlier turned the old buildings into warrens of overpriced lofts and condominiums for yuppies with more money than sense who wanted a Greenwich address as a status symbol. The establishment they were descending to obviously predated that gentrification by more than a decade. Now that he knew what Arcane was, Harry could sense that this place had a great deal of it.

Inside, oil lamps lighted the pub. Tables were arranged in a peculiar pattern that seemed to Harry to be deliberate. A battered antique bar ran along one wall. A tall, strongly built man of indeterminate age and obvious Celtic ancestry manned the bar and nodded a silent greeting to the Professor.

A second man - - tall and thin, wearing a worn, but well maintained duster and a somewhat battered hat seemed to be the only other patron. "Two pints of your best dark, Mac, and a mug of your home brewed root beer for the youngster. Then three of your steak sandwiches with steak fries."

Mac nodded silently, poured the drinks and stoked the wood burning stove as the other man brought the mugs to the table Professor Xavier had parked his magical hover chair next to.

"Harry Potter," Xavier said as the tall stranger set the drinks down and took a seat at the table uninvited. "Allow me to introduce you to Harry Dresden; Wizard, Warden of the White Council and Private Investigator."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry." Dresden's face was thin and worn, with several days' growth of beard and a nose that had been broken more than a few times.

"Mr. Dresden." Harry shook the man's hand respectfully.

"The Professor told us to expect you here today," Dresden began as Harry sipped the best root beer he'd ever tasted. "It's procedure to send a Warden to greet newly discovered young mutants like yourself, fill you in on the laws and put the fear of retribution into you. Some Wardens get a little . . . intense about it, so I figured I'd volunteer to indoctrinate you, myself. Don't worry. I don't bite."

Harry nodded, so Dresden continued. "First off, never use your powers to take another life. This doesn't apply to vampires, ghouls or creatures from the Nevernever, but otherwise, killing - - if it becomes necessary - - is best done with a sword or a gun. Your powers are so tied to your essential being that using them to kill corrupts your soul in ways that never fully heal. It also makes it easier to kill again, starting you down a spiral that will turn you into a monster."

"Like the Avada Kedavra spell," Harry mused.

Dresden tensed slightly, but remained calm. "Where did you learn about the killing curse?"

"Apocalypse used it to kill my parents and tried to use it on me as well."

Xavier spoke up at that point. "Harry experienced an involuntary temporal event yesterday and is still recovering."

Dresden relaxed and responded sympathetically. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry. No one should; particularly not a boy barely in his teens. Avada Kedavra is more than just killing someone with your abilities. It's the darkest, most vile and irredeemable act anyone can perform."

His expression darkened with what seemed to Harry to be personal pain. "Avada Kedavra, the Imperious Curse and the Cruciatus Curse are called the three unforgivable spells. They carry a mandatory death sentence for casting them. It's no surprise that they were favorites of the Deatheaters."

"Thank you, sir," Harry responded, then quickly changed the subject. "Who were the Deatheaters?"

"That's what Apocalypse called his followers," Xavier explained. "It has had many meanings down through history, but I think he simply liked the sound of the term."

Harry nodded and Dresden moved on. "Second law is never transform another being. This only applies to magically altering the genetic structure of another; not temporarily changing the outer appearance . . . say, with a transfiguration spell. Unless you're intimately familiar with every gene and how it reacts with every other gene, the result of all but the most superficial transformations is almost invariably death. I've seen the results of this kind of magic gone awry. It's not pretty."

Harry had taken a notebook from his backpack and was writing down what Dresden was telling him. "Got it."

"The third law," Dresden told him, "forbids using magic to enthrall or enslave another being. Even telepaths like the Professor require special licensing and registration to use their powers. Even then, they're closely monitored to make sure they don't abuse their powers. By the way, Professor Xavier here is one of the men responsible for monitoring other telepaths."

Dresden paused as Harry was writing furiously. "That's why the Imperious Curse carries a death sentence. Under its influence, decent people can become spies, thieves, even murderers. Their will becomes that of the person who cast the spell on them."

Xavier frowned. "It was also the most frequently used defense at the Deatheater trials that followed the Dark Lord's disappearance. Every third Deatheater we caught swore they were under an Imperious Curse. Some even got away with it."

"Professor," Harry asked, respectfully curious, "you said you can control minds with your powers. How does that differ from spells covered by this law?"

"Some people have claimed that I'm the most powerful telepath in the magical world," Xavier explained, "but even I can't change a person's essential personality. I can alter their memories and perceptions, and make them believe they want to do what I suggest, but I can't force them to do anything that violates their core nature. A victim can eventually overcome even the most powerful telepathic mind control. Once a Imperious Curse is cast, it's virtually impossible to resist it."

"Telepathic mind control also doesn't have long lasting side effects," Dresden added. "The kind of enslavement we're talking about leaves permanent scars on the psyche of the victim. Even done with the best of intentions, it can shred the will; causing phobias, manias, neuroses, even psychoses. Many victims commit suicide. In some ways, it's worse than murder."

"That's why I'm so careful about using my abilities, Harry," Xavier said. "The potential consequences of telepathic abuse can be devastating. I will never use my powers on a friend or student without permission or gravest necessity. I'm even reluctant to use it on strangers unless they're a known enemy and there's a strong reason. It's a matter of personal ethics, as well as law."

"Note," Dresden concluded. "This law doesn't cover various geasa willingly accepted. It also doesn't include compelling non-humans through arrangements or exchanges. Such exceptions, however, must be two way and have benefits for both sides."

"A geas (geasa if plural), by the way," Xavier clarified, "is a fancy way of saying a binding oath enforced by magic. In olden days it was a common way of enforcing contracts. It's still used on occasion, particularly when non-humans are involved, but has become far less common."

Harry looked up from his notes and smiled; ready to absorb more information.

"The fourth law," Dresden continued with a wry smile, "forbids reaching beyond the 'Borders of Life'. It's a fancy way of forbidding necromancy. Once a person has died, their soul, the only part of their being that was intrinsically them, has departed. It can't be returned. It's folly to even try. The result at best is a husk containing the psychic remnant of the deceased. At worst, it creates a body for habitation by an outsider. One is tragic. The other has potential to cause mass destruction."

"I wondered if magic could do that," Harry mused sadly. "I guess that if my parents could have been brought back, Professor, you'd have done it then."

"For your sake, Harry," came the even sadder reply, "I might have considered it, but it's for the best that I didn't. I've more than once been accused of hubris, but I'm not fool enough to think I can accomplish what only God is capable of."

"What about that, Mr. Dresden," Harry asked. "In the Bible, a lot of people are said to have raised the dead. Jesus did it a couple of times. I did some internet searches on my grandparents' computer once and found all kinds of stories about people doing it even today."

Dresden laughed. "Not even the White Council is foolish enough to try to make laws for God. Miracles are completely beyond our purview. Its resonance is completely different from that of magic, however, so it's easy to tell the difference."

At that point, Mac broke a long standing policy by bringing their meals to the table. Usually he figured that if you wanted something, you could get out of your chair, walk up to the bar and get it yourself. Any customer who had a problem with that was invited to go somewhere else.

"How much, Mac?" Dresden was surprised, but hid it well.

"On the house," the large man growled. "It's not every day that Harry Potter walks into my pub, so I'll make an exception just this once. Just don't get used to it."

As Mac left and they started eating, Dresden continued. "The fifth law is don't mess with time. There are spells and even powers that compress or even slow the passage of time, but time travel is highly restricted. The guy who wrote about the butterfly effect never knew how close he was to right. Not even my uncle, may he rot in hell, dared that one and he dared much. What's in the past is carved in stone. Only a handful of people have ever tried to go back and change the past. The results are invariably disastrous and the farther back you go, the worse the repercussions. The Ministry of Magic even has a Department of Temporal Integrity, whose job it is to insure that some fool doesn't destroy the world. All records of their missions are sealed, but I know they've had to go back through the stream several times and correct damage done by various temporal criminals. Of course, the paradox backlash of altering time is almost invariably fatal to the person responsible. Even if it wasn't dealing with the Ministry afterwards would be."

Harry cocked his head. "Excuse me for asking, sir, but if their missions are so secret and all, how do you know about them?"

Dresden smiled enigmatically, but it was Professor Xavier who answered Harry. "There are some questions for which there are no answers, my boy. It is one of my fondest hopes that you never have to learn the answer to that one. Whatever Mr. Dresden – - or I, for that matter - - may or may not have done on behalf of that Department at some point in the past is not a subject for conversation. Let us just say that the flow of time is not to be messed with and leave it at that, shall we?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded despite the possibilities his imagination was bringing up.

"The sixth law," Dresden moved on after a cutting glance from the Professor, "forbids us from reaching beyond the Outer Gates of our reality and dealing or interacting with elder forces. There are many dark and evil entities out there; creatures that hate humanity, but give power to those foolish enough to make deals with them. Their ultimate goal is always the destruction of as many people as possible. My uncle found that out the hard way."

Xavier interjected what Dresden was reluctant to talk about. "Other terms for elder forces are demons or fallen angels. The Christian church, like most others, has very definite opinions about such things and for good reason. Not even Tom was fool enough to break that law."

Dresden laughed. "The Christian church has very definite opinions about a lot of things, but that's a different issue."

Harry's grandparents were Quakers and had raised him in the Friends Church. He enjoyed attending, but had several questions many church people didn't like having asked. The foremost of these was how a loving God could let his parents die in an automobile accident. Now that he knew the truth about their deaths, of course, he had even more questions.

Not wanting to continue on that train of thought, Harry decided to change the subject again. "You mentioned your uncle twice, Mr. Dresden. Who was he?"

"His name was Justin du Morne," he responded a little bitterly. "My mother was a wizardess, but she died when I was still a baby. My father was a stage magician who traveled a lot and died when I was still pretty young. I was in an orphanage when Justin found me. He saw my potential and offered to train me. Actually, he just wanted me and a girl he found, raised and trained with me to sacrifice ourselves in order to summon something from beyond for him. He used an Imperious Curse to enthrall Elaine, but when he tried to do the same on me, I somehow managed to resist long enough to use my powers to kill him. That was how I came to the attention of the White Council."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized for seemingly opening a long closed wound. "What I can't figure out is why anyone with the kind of power the Professor says we have would make a deal with a demon. I can barely imagine what I'm going to someday learn to do. Why make a deal with a demon for something you can get on your own?"

"Smart kid," Dresden noted as the Professor nodded proudly in agreement, "smarter than a lot of adults out there. To answer your question, not everyone in our community has the kind of power Professor Xavier and I have, much less the potential you have. They're derisively called squibs. Some of them are envious enough or greedy enough or angry enough to make deals. Others, like my uncle and the man who killed your parents, will never have enough power no matter how powerful they become. Then, there are those in the mundane world who know just enough to want power of their own. Demons never seem to run out of willing victims. What was it P. T. Barnum supposedly said about a sucker being born every minute?"

Xavier smiled. "Actually, he denied ever saying that. Your point is made, however. Whether it be wrath, envy, greed, pride, lust, sloth or even gluttony; the seven deadly sins have caused many a fool to make deals with demons and condemn his own soul for temporary benefit."

Harry knew there was no way he was going to break that law.

"That brings us to the seventh and final law." Dresden said finally. "Simply put, never let the mundane world know we exist. We have power. They have numbers. They can't conceive of what we truly are. What they don't understand, they fear. What they fear, they try to destroy. Neither side would win if our worlds collided. At least, that's the popular opinion."

Harry swallowed what was in his mouth and washed it down with more root beer. "You don't agree with that?"

Dresden looked over at Xavier, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "There are a lot of folks who have a lot more faith in humanity than the White Council and Ministry of Magic. They admit that premature revelation would be disastrous, but are working to find a way to safely and nonviolently integrate the two worlds."

Xavier took over. "A group known as the Order of the Phoenix joined together to fight Apocalypse. Your parents were founding members of the Order. We stayed together after they died and he vanished, so we could watch over you. We also realized that Apocalypse got as far as he did because he was particularly adept at using the White Council's fear of exposure against them."

Dresden nodded agreement. "I was just getting started when all that happened, but even I could see it. The mundanes could have been huge allies if they knew what was at stake."

Harry was about to say something, but Dresden wasn't finished. "That's not to say the Order is at odds with the Council. In fact, a large percentage of the Wardens are allies, if not members, and several members of the Council itself, if not exactly members of the Order, are at least not opposed to its goals. Sometimes, it takes a bunch of outsiders to do what the leadership knows needs to be done, but can't accomplish due to the pressures on them."

"So," Harry tried to sum up everything they told him. "Let me see if I have all this down right. I'm not to use magic to kill, transform or enslave anyone. It's probably best not to use it aggressively at all unless I absolutely have to. I'm not to try raising the dead or going back in time. Making deals with demons is right out and I shouldn't cast fireballs in Time Square on New Year's Eve."

"Sounds good to me." Dresden laughed.

"What happens to people who break these laws?" Harry's question impressed the adults again.

Dresden immediately responded. "Someone like me comes looking for them. The penalty depends on a variety of factors, but starts with death and might be reduced, but don't count on it. Note, there's no assumption of innocence in magical court and you can be forced to testify against yourself; under magical truth potions, no less. Those who are convicted, but not executed are usually sent to one of two magical prisons; the Vault here in the US and Azkaban in Europe. The Vault is bad; Azkaban is worse."

Harry nodded and didn't seem to have any further questions.

"Well," Dresden said, finishing his meal and his second pint, "that's the pitch I'm required to give. Now for my personal advice: listen to the Professor. I didn't have the opportunity to attend his school. I was an adult and had already killed a man using magic (in self-defense and against a dark wizard, which is why I'm still breathing, but that's beside the point) before someone took me under his wing and taught me what I needed to know to survive. He had to risk the Doom of Damocles, which required both of our deaths if I so much as peeked over the line, in order to do it. You're getting the breaks I never got. Take advantage of them."

Harry stood and shook the tall man's hand seriously. "I will, sir. I promise."

**Writers Notes:**

**I hope you enjoyed the first two chapters. My take on Xavier has the best aspects of the various takes on him and the best aspects of Dumbledore, like his sense of humor. He's also a lot more honest and has more faith in Harry and his companions.**

**In this chapter, I introduced my versions of Harry Dresden, the magical bus, magical train and Nevernever. As I started this project, I realized that the White Council and the Wardens were a surprisingly good fit in this tale. The same is true for the Red and White Vampire Courts, although I have other plans for the Black Court that comes from the Buffyverse.**

**I'm also incorporating Arcane from the World of Darkness' Mage RPG. I felt it an appropriate way to explain how the mutant community could remain hidden in plain sight so well. In the game, it's a trait that caused the mundane world to fail to pay attention to mages. Werewolves and Changelings had their own ways of hiding.**

**Finally, I know Mac and his bar were McAnally and McAnally's in the Dresden verse. I dropped the first A for the same reason I changed Hermione to Helen and made the other name changes. It's also why my Dumbledore brothers - - they will be in the story - - will be Albert and Abner.**


	3. Chapter 03 - Diagon Alley

Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

Dresden shook hands with Xavier, bid farewell to Mac and headed out the door as Harry sat down and returned to his meal. Several minutes later, he'd eaten all he could hold and it was time to move on. Instead of taking him to the front door, however, the Professor went to the roughhewn stone back wall of the pub. As Harry watched, Xavier took out his own wand and tapped a series of stones in a specific pattern. The stones began collapsing and folding in on themselves; forming a massive arch that had to be twelve feet tall and at least eight feet wide.

Stepping through the arch was like going back in time. A narrow cobblestone street wound its way between rows of quaint pseudo-Bavarian shops. The street stretched about a hundred yards or so with a cul-de-sac at either end. Colorful wooden signs hung next to the entrance of each shop; some with images that actually moved. The atmosphere enchanted Harry immediately.

The arch connecting to McNally's Pub was in a corner of one of the cul-de-sacs. Next to it, Gringott's Bank dominated the circle like a massive fortress. Xavier led Harry through the massive armored doors of the bank; passing beneath an inscribed poetic warning to prospective thieves. Since Gringott's was run by a cabal of gnomes and goblins, it would be Harry's first direct encounter with nonhuman sentients. Xavier watched the boy closely and was pleased with his reactions.

What Xavier didn't know was that Harry had played Dungeons and Dragons with a group of friends during his lunch hour for most of the preceding school year. It amused Harry now to think how he always preferred playing wizards, but that was beside the point. Meeting the proprietors of Gringott's was far less disturbing to him than it might have been to others.

"Greetings, Griphook," Xavier addressed the squat humanoid dressed in a nineteenth century style suit that approached them.

"Charles Xavier," the goblin responded neutrally. "What can Gringott's Bank do for you today?"

"I'd like to present Harry James Potter." Xavier indicated Harry. "He's heir to the Potter estate and would like to visit his family vault to pick up some money to purchase school supplies. I also need to drop by the Academy's vault."

"You have the key?" Griphook measured Harry with a glance.

Harry fumbled for a minute, then produced the key. "Yes, sir. Right here."

Griphook took the key, sniffed it, then nodded. "You will need to speak to the account's manager who will confirm your identity and take you to the vault. Will you be accompanying him, Professor, as executor?"

Xavier thought for a moment and realized it would be a good test for Harry to deal with this by himself. "I believe we can deal with both errands at the same time. I designate the account's manager, Bill Wesley, to represent the school on this one occasion."

"Very well." The goblin frowned sourly. "Follow me."

Griphook wasn't a very pleasant being, but he was extremely efficient. He led them to a cubicle manned by a human with painfully red hair and a multitude of freckles.

"Boy claims to be heir to the Potter estate," the goblin told the young man gruffly, handing him the key. "Confirm his identity and take him to his vault. You will represent both the bank and the executor at this time."

"Yes, sir," the man responded, then rose and greeted Xavier. "Professor."

Professor Xavier smiled and shook the man's hand. "Bill, this is Harry Potter. I was present at his birth and two years later at his parents' deaths, albeit too late to save them. I confirm his identity. The scar on his forehead will have to serve as the second confirmation."

"Thank you, Professor." Bill nodded. "Those will suffice. A gene scan will supply the required third confirmation."

Xavier turned to Harry. "I'll leave you in Bill's capable hands, Harry. When you're finished visiting your vault, I'll meet you back here."

Harry watched the Professor leave with Griphook, then turned a little nervously to the tall redhead, who smiled encouragingly. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter. This will only take a few minutes, then I'll take you to your vault. I must say it's been quite an honor to manage your account. I hope you'll be pleased with my efforts."

Harry sat down, feeling very small and more than a little lost without the Professor at his side.

"So," Bill said, trying to put Harry at ease. "You're going to be attending Xavier's this school year?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded, almost jumping, then forcing himself to relax.

"I have four brothers and a sister attending there." Bill laughed. "The Wesley family is seven for seven at Xavier's. My older brother, Charlie, and I both graduated. Percy is on the Student Council. Fred and George are extremely talented, but keep skirting expulsion with their 'malicious mischief'. Ron and Ginny are just starting this year. Fred and George are twins. Ginny is just ten months younger than Ron."

"Wow." Harry couldn't help but be impressed. "It must have been great to grow up with such a big family. It's just my grandparents and me. Don't get me wrong. They're great. I just think I'd have liked to have some brothers and sisters to play with or just hang out with."

"I didn't think it was so great at the time," Bill said with a thoughtful smile, "but now that you mention it, I don't think I'd have had it any other way.

Bill unlocked a security drawer in his desk and pulled a nondescript box from a collection of similar boxes. He unlocked the box with Harry's key. Inside was a small crystal sphere, about two inches in diameter.

He held it out to Harry. "Hold the crystal in your right hand, please."

When Harry complied, there was a clear bell tone and the crystal lit the chamber with a bright blue light. Bill nodded and directed Harry to return the crystal, then relocked the box, returned it to the drawer and relocked that.

"You're the Potter heir, alright." He handed Harry back his key. "If you'll follow me, Mr. Potter, I'll escort you to your vault and answer any questions you may have."

Bill led Harry down an ornate spiral stairway that emptied into a grotto where several mine cars with comfortable chairs that included what looked like five point restraints. The cars sat on crisscrossing tracks laid out on the floor. These vanished into dozens of caves and shafts scattered about.

Bill could see Harry's discomfort at the prospect of what might lay ahead. "Do you like roller coasters?"

"Never been on one." Harry swallowed audibly. "Unless you count my ride in Stan Pike's bus earlier this morning, that is."

"If you survived a ride with Stan," Bill joked, putting Harry a little more at ease, "you'll be fine . . . . This ride won't be much worse."

They chose a car with two seats. Bill climbed in after Harry and secured the door. After making sure they were both securely strapped in, he reached forward and released the brake.

"Vault 624," was all he said, then sat back to enjoy the ride as the car took off forcefully and rapidly gained speed.

It was a wild ride. Cold wind blew in their faces as they went right and left, and up and down. They even went upside down a couple of times. At no time, however, did the car even seem to come off the tracks. After less than two minutes, they came to a rapid stop outside a massive door bearing his family's name.

"You good?" Bill asked, as he released himself, showing Harry how to do it as well.

"I'll survive, sir." Harry smiled bravely, not sure he felt nearly as certain as he hoped he sounded.

There were two keyholes; one on either side of the door. Bill went straight to the one on the right and quickly sifted through a ponderously large ring of keys. Watching him, Harry stepped over to the left side and compared the shape of his key to the keyhole. They seemed to match; at least visually.

Bill found the correct key and turned to Harry. "We stick them in at the same time and you turn yours clockwise. Any questions?"

"No, sir." Harry shook his head.

As the keys were turned, there was a low grinding that Harry felt as much as heard. Slowly, the door slid back, then up. Harry stared in disbelief into a chamber he imagined a dragon's horde might look like.

"Is that . . . ." Harry could barely believe what he was seeing.

"All yours," Bill confirmed. "At least it will be on your twenty-fifth birthday. Of course, I intend to double it for you by then. You can take any reasonable amount with you right now, but there are some other things further back in the room that you might want to look at, if not have with you at Xavier's."

Harry wandered through the stacks and piles of coins. Beyond them, he found chests of jewelry and magically preserved clothes. Another large chest contained some miscellaneous items and devices that practically radiated magic.

"Do you know what any of this is?" He called Bill over.

"No," Bill admitted. "According to bank records, I doubt your parents knew either. The last official inventory of this vault was before your father's birth. My responsibilities only concerned the liquid assets. I can order an official inventory and evaluation for you, if you like. The bank offers the service to all preferred customers for the nominal fee of two galleons."

"Galleons?" Harry asked.

"Ah." Bill realized Harry would be unfamiliar with the magical world's money system and it was his responsibility to educate the boy. "Galleons are the gold coins up front. They're a quarter ounce of gold. The silver coins are sickles and the bronze ones are knuts. The exchange rate is twenty-nine knuts to a sickle and seventeen sickles to a galleon. It's pretty simple once you get used to it."

Harry nodded. "Is two galleons a fair rate?"

Bill frowned and shrugged. "The bank should probably offer the service for free, but you can't get a goblin to give you the time of day without charging you something and gnomes are almost as bad. It's still a fair rate, though; well below anything an outside organization would charge."

"Okay, then," Harry decided. "How long will it take?"

Bill looked around thoughtfully. "It shouldn't take more than a week at most. I'll put the order in as soon as I get back to my desk and send the report to you at Xavier's as soon as I get it."

As Harry continued to wander, he found various pieces of furniture, including several cases full of books. "My grandparents would love some of these furniture pieces. After the inventory, could I arrange to have some things sent to them?"

"Of course," Bill promised. "Just let me know what and I'll take care of it."

Suddenly, something caught Harry's eye. It was a sword with a golden hilt capped by a golden lion's head. It was in a jewel encrusted and gold reinforced dark leather scabbard. He touched it, then picked it up; amazed at how light it seemed.

Bill was astonished. "If that's the sword I think it is I've read legends about it. It's described in detail in several texts. If it isn't a replica or forgery, you're holding the Sword of the Gryphon. It was created by the greatest smiths of the Summer Court and presented to your ancestor, Griffin Potter, by the Summer Queen, herself, for services rendered to the people of the Summerlands. He was responsible for establishing the Accords that ended the Great War of the Faerie Courts."

Harry slowly drew the sword. It looked incredibly sharp. When turned edgeways, it almost disappeared, but obviously wasn't the least bit fragile. The flat of the blade reflected light and images as well as any mirror, but the images were more than reflections. Several reflections of Harry were overlaid on each other. There was the scared child, the innocent infant, a mighty warrior, even a marginally human monster surrounded by a halo of pure chaos. It was an extremely disturbing experience and caused Harry to immediately sheathe the weapon.

"It was lost some time during the French Revolution," Bill continued. "Sorry, but I'm a bit of a buff on such stories. My thesis for my senior year Magical History class was on lost antiquities."

The rest of the tour was fairly uneventful. Along the way, Harry found a small embroidered bag and poured enough gold, silver and bronze coins into it to more than cover his needs, but didn't come close to filling it.

"Can I see that, Harry?" Bill took out his wand as Harry handed him the bag and gestured while muttering some strange words. "Interesting. This bag contains a dimensional pocket."

"A bag of holding," Harry mused. "Cool."

Just before leaving, Harry decided to open up a chest he found with tags bearing his mother's name. Inside were several personal effects, but what caught Harry's interest were two large scrapbooks. One was his parents' wedding album. The second contained numerous pictures of his parents with him as a baby. To a boy who grew up not knowing his parents, these were worth more than everything else in the vault.

Harry looked at the two large books, then at the small bag, then at Bill. He put the mouth of the bag around the corner of one of the books and the bag instantly sucked it inside. He then reached into the bag to be sure and pulled it back out. There was a rather interesting spatial distortion effect when the book came in and out, but it seemed harmless, so he added the two tomes to the coins he was taking.

Then Harry looked back at the sword. Xavier told him that all students at Xavier's learned to defend themselves with swords, so he decided to add it to the collection. He then took two galleons and two sickles off the stacks of coins and handed them to Bill.

"For the inventory," he said calmly, "and for you . . . for all your help today."

"That's not necessary," Bill insisted.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Please take them, Mr. Wesley. It's the least I can do for all you've given me today."

Seeing Harry was adamant, Bill finally nodded his thanks and they left the vault. Securing it behind them, they returned to the mine car that waited. The trip back to the grotto was a quiet one. Harry's mind was racing too fast to do much talking.

Xavier and Griphook were talking near Bill's cubicle when Harry and Bill reached the main level of the bank. An unmarked, wooden box sat in the Professor's lap. Harry was barely able to restrain himself. He wanted to run and shout, but he walked instead. He didn't want to embarrass Xavier or his grandparents by making a scene in the bank.

"So, Harry." Xavier greeted him with a knowing smile. "How did it go?"

"It was incredible, sir," Harry's smile spoke volumes. "You won't believe what I found."

Still smiling, Xavier held up a finger. "We'll talk about it outside. Bill, is there anything further we need to do here?"

"No, Professor," Bill responded. "Harry authorized an inventory of the vault. It's been over fifty years since the last one. I'll get that started immediately and send the report to both of you by the end of the week. Other than that, he has enough money to get him going. I may have been a little generous with what I allowed him to take, but he's going to have a lot of things to buy."

"Excellent." Xavier nodded. "We'll be on your way, then. I look forward to seeing that report and being able to discuss it with Harry."

Outside, the Professor explained his earlier comment to Harry. "Thanks in no small measure to the gnomes in the senior management, the goblins of Gringott's are reliable within their limits, but there are things best not discussed in their presence. The sword you found is one of them. Sorry. I don't like to pry, but you were so excited about the books and the sword that you were projecting. We'll need to work on that, but it's normal for a boy your age."

"Bill said the sword was ancient and everyone thought it was lost in the French Revolution," Harry admitted.

"Bill won't talk to anyone at the bank about anything you found in the vault," Xavier assured him. "Privacy is one of the many services they offer. I'm not surprised he recognized it. The boy practically had an obsession with magical artifacts."

Harry nodded. "Is finding the sword a bad thing?"

Xavier laughed pleasantly and patted Harry's shoulder. "Not at all, my boy. It's a valuable find. It's also something many people won't want to leave in the hands of a thirteen year old boy. I'm not one of those people. I don't believe Apocalypse is dead. If I'm right, your destiny remains unfulfilled. That sword and the skill to use it could be invaluable to you."

Xavier took a deep breath and changed the subject. "That's not a worry for today, however. You'll have years to train and grow before you need to deal with him. For now you need to concentrate on being a teenager. Let's go see if we can spend some of the money you withdrew from your vault."

Their first stop was Madame Malkin's Clothiers, where Harry was fitted for his robes and school uniform. As he waited for the fitting, some shirts with animated magical decals caught his eye. He decided to buy two of them; a red, orange and gold tie dyed one with a beautiful phoenix that flew around in it when it wasn't perched on the front and dark blue one with a wyvern that wandered across it. He also decided to buy some underwear, socks and a new pair of shoes. He figured he had enough pairs of jeans to supplement the slacks he was going to buy as part of his school uniform.

After the fitting, Xavier took Harry to Ollivander's Wand Shoppe to get his wand registered. It was a dusty old store with walls lined with wand boxes. Mr. Ollivander greeted them as soon as they entered.

"Here to purchase your first wand?" The wiry older man asked pleasantly through his bushy moustache.

"Actually," the Professor interjected, "no. Young Mr. Potter has inherited his father's old wand; a family heirloom."

"Potter?" He seemed surprised. "Ah, yes. I remember that wand now. Rowan with a phoenix feather; most unique. Of course, I'll need to see it, then I'll register it immediately . . . for a nominal fee, of course."

Harry produced the wand. The shopkeeper nodded and smiled, then headed to his desk to fill out some forms. A few minutes later, Harry and Xavier left the shop with Harry's bag lighter by five knuts.

Next was Flourish and Blotts Bookstore, where Harry purchased his school books and several others that caught his interest. After that they stopped at an alchemist to purchase his cauldron and the supplies he'd need for first year Potions. There were several other things in the store that caught his fancy, but he decided against buying anything else there until he knew a lot more about the subject. Even what little he knew about alchemy from legends and fairy tales, convinced him not to fool with it.

As they shopped, Xavier continued to observe his new student. Most kids Harry's age, upon receiving a large amount of money would be tempted to spend it like mad. Harry, however, was surprisingly frugal. Again, the boy showed wisdom beyond his years. The Professor was impressed, but also a little concerned. This level of maturity in a thirteen year old was unsettling. It didn't fit and Charles Xavier didn't like things that didn't fit. They made him nervous.

In the end, he decided his concerns were unfounded. Harry was an astounding boy, but not so far out of the ordinary given his upbringing. He was possibly a bit too reserved, but that would change as he blossomed under the tutelage of the teachers at the school.

By the time they left their final stop for supplies at a stationary store where they bought pens, paper, quills, ink, parchment and scrolls; all of which would be needed for various classes, Harry was almost shopped out. Being as it was a hot day, Xavier decided to take the boy to an ice cream shop on the far cul-de-sac. The place offered literally a thousand flavors of frozen delights, ranging from the common to the downright strange, but the Professor always ordered the same thing when he visited.

"I'll have vanilla," he said as the clerk rolled his eyes. "What would you like, Harry?"

"I don't know, Professor," Harry was amazed by the selection. "There are so many choices."

He turned to the clerk. "What would you recommend?"

"Good to see that he hasn't corrupted you yet," the man said, but traded an almost affectionate glance with Xavier.

"What?" Charles exclaimed with a smile. "I like vanilla. Is that a crime?"

Giving the Professor up as a lost cause, he turned to Harry. "Our special this week is Ambrosia. It's quite good. Would you care for a taste?"

"Yes, please," Harry responded properly.

The man took a small plastic spoon and dipped it into the same large pot he'd taken Xavier's vanilla from - - the only such pot in the store Harry noticed suddenly - - and came up with a tiny scoop of a creamy golden ice cream that sparkled with rainbow colors. At first cautious, Harry took a taste and was pleasantly surprised. It tasted like honey mixed with cream and a dozen different fruits he couldn't identify, but blended together wonderfully.

"I'll take a scoop of that please." Harry beamed. "It's delicious."

As they sat down to enjoy their treats on the patio outside the store, a tall, thin man with shoulder length, painfully straight platinum blonde hair and what seemed to be a permanent sneer approached. He was dressed in a neo-Victorian suit and carried an ornate walking stick with a vicious looking serpent's head. He ignored Harry as if the boy didn't exist and immediately accosted the Professor.

"I would have words with you, Xavier. I'll give you one final chance to abandon your folly and prejudice. Do not take your fallacious misperceptions of me out on my son. Draco is a fine boy from a fine family. He deserves a place at the best school in the area and, sadly, that is yours. Your rejection of his application in favor of some mudblood is an affront on civility and propriety."

Xavier seemed unperturbed. "My decisions regarding your son have nothing whatsoever to do with any past encounters I may have had with you, Lucius; nor did I give any place he might have otherwise had to another student. Draco is a fine young man who will one day be a capable wizard. I simply do not feel he would profit from an education at my school as much as he would from an independent tutelage. I would be only too happy to recommend any number of people you could apprentice him to who would help him far more than Xavier's Academy could."

The tall man fumed and his right hand twitched as if he wanted to reach his wand with all his heart, but a mix of iron will and fear stayed him. "You've not heard the end of this, Xavier; nor of me. You will regret this decision. I'll see to it."

As the man strode off, Harry considered. "That is not a happy man. Who was he, Professor?"

"Ah," Xavier said obligingly, "he's nothing for you to worry about. His name is Lucius Malfoy; a man of some prominence in our society. Then, so were many other Deatheaters. His son, Draco, is about your age. Draco has no real interest in learning what we teach at Xavier's and his father only insisted he apply because it would look good on the boy's record to have attended. Sadly, Draco has already been soured by his parents' extreme views and would be quite unhappy attending school with students he considers his inferiors. I feel sorry for the boy, but Xavier's has a reputation for selectivity based not on breeding, but on potential."

"He's a Deatheater?" Harry hated even saying the word.

Xavier nodded. "He and his wife, Narcissa. I fear Draco will follow them, but he's already beyond reaching. His attitude would be disruptive to the school's environment. It wouldn't be any fairer to him than it would be to the other students. I'll not have that family's attitudes corrupt the minds of any of the children under my tutelage."

Harry cocked his head and mused respectfully. "So your feelings for his father did kind of color your decision . . . at least a little."

Xavier considered that. "I don't believe so, my boy; I don't believe so. The triplet children of Lucius' cousin, Erik Magnus - - Pietro, Wanda and Lorna - - are attending new student orientation right now. We've accepted the children of several one time Deatheaters over the years. Many of them will be your fellow students. Others have graduated and many of those have gone on to become fine and upstanding citizens of our community."

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry was afraid he may have hurt the older man's feelings. "I shouldn't have suggested such a thing."

He smiled at the boy. "Never be afraid of challenging your elders, Harry. As long as you do it with respect, you'll learn more in that way than from all the lessons in the world. That was very perceptive of you. I'm not so perfect that I can't make mistakes. It's always good to re-evaluate decisions from time to time. Thank you for helping me do so."

He finished his bowl. "What say we get back to shopping?"

Harry rose and grimaced slightly. "Don't I have all the supplies I'll need?"

Xavier laughed. "You do, but life is not all school supplies. I want you to purchase at least one thing simply because it catches your fancy. I also still want to purchase you a birthday present. The items I gave you yesterday were all from your father."

"You don't have to, sir," Harry insisted. "You've already given me far more than I could ever have asked."

"Nonsense." Charles was insistent. "Let me see. I'll tell you what. There's a fine pet shop just a few doors down. I encourage all my students to have a pet. It gives them a companion and teaches responsibility. Why don't you choose one and I'll purchase it for you? That's a proper gift for a young man of your age, I think."

Harry had no idea what he'd possibly buy for himself, but the thought of having a pet definitely interested him. He'd often wished he had one, but his grandmother was allergic to pet dander. He wasn't sure what to get, though.

As they entered the store, the rich, earthy smell of animals wafted over them. Harry looked around; amazed at the incredible assortment of animals. There were cats and dogs and birds and fish of all kinds, but there were also toads, owls, snakes, lizards and several creatures he'd once thought only existed in mythology.

He'd decided to keep it simple and get either a dog or cat when there was a sudden ruckus in the back of the shop. It was followed by the harsh voice of a woman cursing. Before Harry could even turn, something shot through the air towards the front door as if trying to make good its escape. When it saw its exit cut off, it spied Harry and leaped into his arms.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of the creature. It had the body of a monkey, but looked and acted more like a cat. Lightly furred, leather wings folded and vanished beneath flaps on it's back as it climbed all over the boy, sniffing and purring and nuzzling him. Unsure what to do, he started to scratch its ears, which elicited more purring and nuzzling and general demands for attention.

"Blasted creature is nothing but trouble," the woman store owner complained as she trundled out of the back. "What are you doing, boy? If you bond that creature, you'll have to buy him. I won't be able to sell him to anyone else once he's bonded."

"See here, my good woman," Xavier moved towards her, seeing that Harry was indeed infatuated with the creature and the feeling seemed to be mutual. "The boy didn't bond with the animal, it bonded with him; something it couldn't have done if you hadn't let it out of its cage. Given your tone and attitude, however, I'm not surprised it was trying to get away."

"My apologies, good sir," the woman calmed down. "It's been a particularly trying day. I'm usually not so strident. The animal has bonded with the boy, however. If taken from him it will die of sorrow. Dracats are born to live with humans and bond for life."

"Nothing to be done for it now, I suppose." Xavier evaluated the animal curled around Harry's neck and shoulders. "What are you asking for it?"

Seeing the chance to get a sale out of an otherwise lost cause, the woman quickly considered her options. "Dracats are quite rare and valuable. I purchased it for a specific sale and will have to replace it to satisfy my customer. I couldn't let it go for less than twenty galleons."

Xavier coughed, but used the ruse to wink at Harry. "Twenty? Are you daft? You said yourself that the creature was a nuisance and has already been ruined - - through no fault of mine or the boy's, I might add - - for sale to anyone else. I'd say it wasn't worth five galleons at the most and not a knut more. It's highway robbery at that price."

Harry had seen haggling before, but never on the level of expertise that the Professor and that shopkeeper showed. He stood there silently, occasionally petting or scratching his new pet, as the two went at it. Slowly, but surely, Professor Xavier prevailed and finally they settled on the price of ten galleons. It didn't hurt that the woman kept getting flustered when the dracat mimicked her expressions quite capably and hilariously. By the time Harry and his mentor left the store, they had the dracat, its papers and pedigree (Harry was amazed that such things existed for anything but dogs, cats, horses, cattle and maybe some birds), a book detailing how to care for one (dracats seemed to be extremely self sufficient and easy to care for) and various supplies and play toys for the animal (except for the animal itself, Harry paid for all the supplies himself).

"That's a most interesting pet you chose for yourself, Harry." Xavier smiled as they continued exploring Diagon Alley in search of something for Harry to buy strictly for himself and simply because he wanted to. "It's a smaller sub-species of dragon, if I remember my mystical zoology correctly. Dracats have a reputation for being very intelligent and curious. They're also psychokinetic and have an eye for shiny objects, so keep a close eye on him until you've trained him to respect the property of others."

"I will, sir," Harry promised.

He scratched the dracat's chin. "Now what am I going to name you. You look like you're going to be trouble, so what would you think of being named Jinx?"

The creature cocked its head and continued to purr contentedly. "Jinx it is, then. I think it fits you."

A few moments later, Xavier realized that Harry had stopped walking. He stood frozen in place amidst a crowd of similarly transfixed boys, staring into the window of a sporting goods store. His mouth was sagging open slightly. He seemed to have found something he wanted to buy for himself.

_Why am I not surprised?_ Xavier mused. _Like father, like son, after all._

The window display featured the Nimbus 2000, the newest model of flying disc; the modern answer to the good old fashioned flying broom Xavier's generation preferred. It was a sleek and silver flying wedge instead of the more traditional disc and every kid in the community wanted one . . . including Harry, apparently.

Xavier read the ad aloud as he approached Harry. "'Mentally guided.' 'Faster and more maneuverable than anything else in the air.' 'Preferred by Quidditch players the world over.' 'A dream to ride, but a nightmare for your opponents.' An appropriate choice, I would think; extremely appropriate; fated even. It's a bit more than I'd pay for one, but it's not my money."

"I think I remember riding something like this." Harry was trying to place the random strand of memory before it faded. "I can't remember where, though."

Xavier smiled sadly as the memory took him back. "Your godfather, Sirius, gave you a beginner's flying disc for your second birthday. It didn't go very fast and wouldn't fly more than a foot above the ground, but it was your favorite toy. I hated having to part you with it when your parents died."

"Can I . . . ?" Harry couldn't conceive of owning something so wonderful and obviously expensive.

"It's your money, Harry." Xavier nodded affectionately. "I'm not surprised this store caught your eye. Your father practically lived here when he wasn't at the school. You come by it naturally, I'm afraid."

Harry's eyes were as big as saucers as he walked into the store. The owner looked at the boy and did a double take, then looked at Xavier.

"Mr. Ferguson," Charles smiled proudly. "Allow me to present Mr. Harry James Potter. He's James and Lily's son. He'd like to purchase a Nimbus 2000."

The old man impulsively hugged Harry. "Of course he would. He's his father's son, after all. The very spitting image. You know, I have your father's picture up here somewhere. From the final game his senior year when the Marauders defeated the Hellions for the school cup. I always thought he had what it took to go pro, but he had other dreams. He had a gift. Could have become one of the greats in the sport."

Pictures lined the walls of the shop. Most showed professional sports figures. One showed his father holding a championship cup and mugging for the camera. He even winked at Harry.

The old man's voice became a little sad. "My boy, John, was a classmate of James and Lily. He's gone, but his daughter, Clarice, is starting at Xavier's this year."

He quickly cleared his throat. "Let's get you your Nimbus."

"You'll need to have lessons before you can ride it, Harry." Xavier warned. "We'll see to those once we get to the school."

Harry nodded. He wondered if he should barter, but decided against it. Fact is, he'd have paid every coin in his bag for that disc, but Mr. Ferguson gave him a great discount and even threw in some care supplies and two books on riding and Quidditch. He was counting out the coins before the old man finished adding up the final cost.

Jinx looked at the device a little skeptically, but if his new friend liked it, who was he to argue. He readjusted himself on Harry's shoulders and chittered a bit for attention, then went back to snoozing.

After they left with their final package, they continued up the way back to the entrance to McNally's. They window shopped at several more stores, including a candy shop selling things like chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Harry decided he'd had enough sweets for one day with the ice cream and he wasn't hungry, anyway.

**Writers Notes:**

**I decided to add gnomes to the staff of Gringott's. Gnomes are such wonderful businessmen, after all. I put them in upper management, leaving the goblins to run the daily accounts and such. Goblins are traditionally unpleasant creatures. Gnomes are less so. It seemed a natural balance.**

**Although I'm quite fond of the character, there's no Hagrid at the school. He'll appear later; probably as a guest lecturer. I rearranged Bill Wesley's position at Gringott's and made him the first member of the family that Harry meets. I also decided to make Ginny a little older so she's in the same class with Ron, Harry and the rest.**

**Swords have an important roll in the Dresdenverse. There's also something almost Jedi about it, so I decided to incorporate them into the story. Once I set up the no killing with magic or powers bit, it evolved organically. The sword Harry found in the vault is my alternative to the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, but also has a little touch of the Sword of Shannara. I threw in a small bag of holding from D&D because it filled a need of the plot, but once I did it, I realized there are some interesting things I can do with it later. Many of those ideas are still gelling, of course.**

**As far as the Malfoy's are concerned, never fear. They'll have roles to play, but I have someone else for the part of Harry's nemesis. He's actually a lot like Draco in many ways, but I think a bit more redeemable. I guess, I just don't like Draco and don't want him to be redeemed. I think he makes a better cad and since it's my story, that's what I'm going with.**

**I wanted to give Harry a slightly more exotic pet (I love both cats and dragons, so I merged them and added a little chimpanzee for good measure). I decided to give Hedwig to Helena so she didn't just get lost in the mix. A practical pet is more Helena's speed anyway. Besides I HATED the name Ms. Rawlings gave that cat.**

**Finally, I decided to use something a bit more . . . modern than brooms. The discs I'm using are essentially flying skateboards and would be far more appealing to a modern American kid than riding a broom would. I also think the imagery is cooler, but that's just me. Brooms are still used by some, of course. More on that later.**

**Next chapter, they arrive at the school. It should be fun.**


	4. Chapter 04 - Welcome to Xavier's

Chapter 4: Welcome to Xavier's

When Harry and Xavier re-entered the pub, a man was sitting at the bar with his back to them. He was a short, squat figure, bent forward over his ale. He wore a bomber jacket, jeans, cowboy boots and a battered Stetson. Harry thought he looked familiar, but was stunned when he recognized the man's voice.

"You two done yet?" the man growled. "We get caught in traffic, we won't make it home 'til after dinner."

"Mr. Logan?" Harry didn't know what to think.

He man who had worked off and on as a handyman for his grandfather as long as he could remember turned and smiled. "Hey, kid. How ya been?"

"How?" Harry turned accusatorily to the Professor.

Xavier was unapologetic. "Mr. Logan is a teacher at the school; also our groundskeeper and head of security. He's one of several people that have alternated watching over and protecting you since your parents' murders. Your old neighbors the Carpenters are also teachers at Xavier's now. The others aren't on staff, but you'll likely meet most of them again as you get to know the mutant community."

He paused. "I placed powerful spells and wards on your grandparents' home, Harry, but you were too important to entrust to spells alone. For better or worse, your safety has been my first priority for eleven years."

Harry didn't know what to say about that, so he followed Logan and the Professor to a nearby parking facility where Logan parked the limousine. Logan then drove them out of Manhattan and north into the state of New York. Harry was silent for the first two hours of the drive, only speaking as they entered Westchester County.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me, sir," he said finally, "but if I'm going to fulfill this destiny, I'm going to have to learn to take care of myself. I can't do that if I have adults constantly watching over me."

Xavier smiled. "I'll never stop watching over you, Harry. That's both my responsibility and my pleasure. I have no intention of interfering with you or your life, but I will be there if you need me; so will Mr. Logan."

"What he said." Logan's growl came from the driver's compartment. "We promised y'r parents t' take care o' ya if anything happened t' them. I take promises seriously, so y'r stuck with me."

Something about the way the gruff man said that made Harry feel encouraged; even safe. He didn't know what to say. Despite all his claims of wanting his independence, it felt strangely good to know that people like this had his back. In many ways, it was freeing.

They eventually turned onto a property at the end of Graymalkin Lane. The grounds were expansive. There was more open space than Harry, who had grown up in suburbia, had ever seen in his life. The main house was huge. It was a traditional style mansion, but to Harry, it looked like a magic castle. This was magnified when the Professor led him inside while Mr. Logan parked the limo.

Inside, the house was up to twenty times larger than it appeared outside. The massive foyer reached up past nearly a dozen balconies. Stairways led everywhere and many of them seemed to move of their own free will. It was like something from a dream

As they entered, a tall, thin young man with brown hair and red sunglasses approached. He was wearing jeans, athletic shoes and a pullover sweater. Despite his gawky build, he carried himself with a demeanor that belied his age, which Harry figured was seventeen at the most.

"Welcome back, Professor," he greeted Xavier, then waited to be introduced.

"Thank you, Scott." Xavier smiled. "Harry, may I introduce Scott Summers, he's our Student Captain. Scott, this is Harry Potter."

Scott nodded and reached out his hand to Harry. "We've been expecting you, Potter. Welcome to Xavier's."

Harry tried to smile as he shook hands with the much taller boy. "Thank you, Mr. Summers. I'm looking forward to attending here. The Professor has told me a bit about the school over the years, but seeing it and actually being here . . . . I'm speechless."

Scott laughed. "Scott, please; and get used to it. We all felt that way in our first year here. I've been here since I was younger than you and I still feel that way sometimes."

Xavier knew Harry was in good hands. "Scott, would you introduce Harry to the rest of our early arrivals? After dinner, I'll introduce him to Cerebro and we'll sort him into a team."

"Sure thing, sir." Scott guided Harry towards a pair of massive doors at one side of the foyer as Xavier floated away in another direction. "This way to the grand dining hall, Harry. Most of the others are there. It's almost time for dinner. There are only about twenty of us, plus about sixteen younger kids who are wards of the school and such. More than half of us are related to each other. Once school starts, there'll be over a hundred. Right now, it's the Summers, Guthrie, Magnus and Carpenter clans, plus about a dozen early birds like you."

Harry nodded, but had a question. "What does Student Captain mean?"

"It's kind of like Student Body President," Scott admitted. "I'm the guy who's in charge when there aren't any teachers around. Everyone here is a member of a team. Every year, one team is designated Alpha Squad for the coming year. For the last few years, that's been my crew."

As they approached, the massive double doors opened for them, revealing a massive hall that dwarfed the small number of students present. "The competition is pretty fierce; involving scholastics, sports, behavior and extra-curriculars, among other factors. You'll learn more about that over the next month, but just about any and everything you do during the school year contributes in some way to your team's position in the competition. Anyway, the leader of the Alpha Squad is designated the next school year's Student Captain."

At that point, Scott realized he'd lost his audience as Harry was transfixed by the vaulted ceiling of the chamber, which matched the sky outside and made the hall seem almost like a patio. Suppressing a smile as he remembered the first time he entered the hall, Scott gave Harry a gentle elbow to get his attention.

"The rest of us have already been sorted. The blonde who thinks he's a better looker than me is my brother, Alex. The green haired gal (yes, it's natural) is Lorna Magnus, the newest member of our team. The dark redhead with her is her sister, Wanda, who is an Avenger. The platinum blonde with the perpetual scowl is their brother, Pietro. He's a Hellion. Their triplets."

He continued around the group. "The other platinum blonde with the buzz cut is my kid brother, Nate. The redhead tomboy with hair nearly as short is his twin, Rachel. We all call her Ray. We were all raised here, but it's their first year as students. Nate was chosen for Delta Team and Ray for Excalibur."

Harry was a bit surprised by the team arrangements. "Siblings don't get put on the same team? I'd think that would be expected."

"Not usually, no." Scott shrugged. "Alex and I being together is actually an exception. Team assignments are based on personality, not relationship. I can't explain most of it, but Cerebro's never gotten it wrong."

He pointed to a group containing a Chinese girl in a bright yellow slicker, a brunette with a white streak in her hair and a young man who had the bad boy look down pat. "You see those three, off to themselves and looking like their plotting something. That's Remy LeBeau, Jubilation Lee (she prefers Jubilee) and Anna Raven. They're the first arrivals of this year's batch of Marauders."

Harry nodded. "My father was the leader of the first group of Marauders. Troublemakers and pranksters, right?"

"Not exclusively," Scott corrected. "They tend to be, but for the most part, they just like to have fun. If you're ever invited to a Marauder party; watch out; attend, most definitely, but watch out."

He continued. "Most of the Marauders graduated last year. The only survivors are the Wesley twins, Fred and George. We're expecting a lot out of this new batch."

He moved back to Pietro. "For another example, that guy's a Hellion to the tee. They're mostly blue bloods with their noses up in the air. They come from the best families and never let anyone forget it. His sisters, however, just aren't Hellion material."

Harry nodded. "I think I see."

Scott indicated another group; this one of five. "That doesn't mean you can only hang out with your team, though. Four members of that group are Champions. The mousy brunette in pigtails is Willow Rosenberg. She's a Defender, but the first one to arrive. She hit it off right away with my cousin, Buffy. She's the blonde. The girl with purple skin and hair is Clarice Ferguson. The other brunette with the wild hair is Helen Grainger. I'd have expected her to go to one of the more studious groups, but Cerebro put her with the Champs. Like Willow, her parents are both mundanes. They're the first mutants in either family line. The kid with the glasses is Peter Parker; another bookworm on the Champions. It's going to be a group to watch this year."

"I met Bill Wesley at Gringott's this morning," Harry told Scott, "and Clarice's grandfather at his store in Diagon Alley."

Scott wasn't surprised. "Our community isn't all that big, but it's getting bigger each year."

Six more students entered the hall from a side entrance. "The girl in the moccasins is Dani Moonstar. She's Cheyenne and proud of it. The two Scottish ladies are Rahne Sinclair with the short hair and Theresa Cassidy with the longer hair. The tall drink of water with them is Sam Guthrie. Their all Paragons; the biggest rivals of my team last year. The blonde girl is Sam's sister, Paige. The kid with her is Matthew Carpenter. They're future members of Youngblood."

Matthew saw Harry and waved.

"I know the Carpenters," Harry told Scott as he waved back. "They used to be my neighbors."

"Hey, Harry," Matthew approached them and high fived Harry, disturbing Jinx who had been napping on Harry's shoulders. "Mom said you'd be getting here soon. Welcome to the real world of wizards and dragons and such. Nice pet, by the way."

Matthew had been the one who introduced Harry to the lunch gaming group more than a year earlier. He'd moved away that summer after his father was injured on a job and forced to retire. Harry was always a little jealous of the large raucous family, but had loved being invited over for dinner or sleepovers at their house. At fourteen, Matthew was the third of seven kids. His older siblings, Molly and Daniel, were already grown.

"It's good to see you again, Matt," Harry responded. "How is everyone? Did Molly and David attend here? No, they couldn't have, could they?"

Matthew smiled as Scott left Harry in his hands. "Everyone's fine. I'm the first to attend Xavier's. Mom's in charge of the kitchens and teaches Cooking, Home Economics and stuff. Dad's almost fully recovered. He's in charge of maintenance and teaches Industrial Arts. Molly got into some trouble, but now she's a Warden, if you know what they are and can believe that. David works in Salem Center, the nearest town. The rest of the hobbits attend school with the younger Academy wards. It's pretty cool all around. They'll all love to see you again."

Harry nodded and scratched Jinx' ears to placate him. "I'm looking forward to that. This is Jinx, by the way. He kind of adopted me at the pet store in Diagon Alley."

That evening, Harry sat with the Summers family for dinner, but got to know everyone else as well. Most of them seemed to be pretty cool. The only bad thing was that they all seemed to know who he was. Apparently the whole "boy who lived" thing was universally known in the community. Even Helen and Willow had read about him. Once the initial "wow, is it really you, can I see your scar" bit was over, however, most of them treated him just like another kid. In fact, most of them paid more attention to Jinx who quickly won over the hearts of all the girls and even several of the boys.

"So," Scott's cousin, Buffy, asked as she rubbed Jinx' stomach, eliciting a satisfied purr. "What team do you think you'll be sorted to?"

Harry paused. "I hadn't thought about it, really. Before yesterday, I didn't even know all this existed. My father was a Marauder, but Professor Xavier said my mother was a Defender. I could wind up on one of those, but I really don't know enough about the teams to have a preference."

Pietro Magnus sneered. "Too bad no Potter has ever been a Hellion. We're the only team really worth joining. Everyone else has to settle for second best."

Alex scoffed. "Oh, yes. The Hellions have such a great history. Hardly a dark wizard has ever passed through these halls that wasn't a Hellion and that includes old Alpaca Lips."

"Mock the Dark Lord at your own risk," Pietro growled.

Lorna rolled her eyes as Jinx did an amazing mimicry of Pietro's expression and hissed at him. "You'll have to forgive my brother. He has compensation issues and a mouth that moves faster than his brain. He's just jealous that I got sorted to the Guardians, or Alpha Squad, and Wanda is an Avenger; two of the teams that regularly hand the Hellions their lunches on the Quidditch field."

Pietro's eyes narrowed. "That will change now that I'm on the team, sister. Of that you can be sure. With my speed, I could be the whole team all by myself."

Ignoring Pietro as an irrelevant annoyance, Harry turned to Scott and the others. "Professor Xavier mentioned Quidditch. He said it was a popular sport in the community and that my father was a good player. He said I'd learn more about it once I got here. I have to admit I never heard of it before yesterday."

"Your father was a lot more than a good player," Clarice Ferguson told him. "According to my grandfather, he was one of the best seekers to ever step onto the field. Every professional team in the league at the time scouted him. He could have named his price with any of them, but he chose to devote his life to the destruction of . . . 'you-know-who'."

"Apocalypse." Harry said the name like the curse it had become to him.

As the word came out of Harry's lips, several of the others gasped and almost all of them looked around uncomfortably. This was the first time Harry had spoken the name publicly and the reaction surprised him. How could they hope to fight someone when most people were afraid to even say his name?

"That's not a name to be spoken lightly, Harry," Scott told him. "There are legends that he cast a spell that alerted his followers whenever someone spoke his name. Most people don't believe that, but still don't want to take the risk."

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "The Professor didn't seem worried to speak the name and this is the first time I've said it around anyone else."

Scott smiled. "The Professor's one of the only two men the Dark Lord was afraid of. The other is Albert Dumbledore, who's the Merlin of the White Council."

After that, the conversation turned back to Quidditch as everyone who knew anything about the game bombarded Harry with information. He'd never been particularly fond of sports before, but he had to admit that this one was rather fascinating.

Early in the conversation, settings suddenly appeared in front of each of them. An instant later, platters of food appeared just as suddenly. It was quite a spread that included enough food for twice the number of teens present. To the credit of those present, they made a valiant attempt and did themselves proud. When they were finished, the tables cleared themselves. Harry found the whole process to be quite efficient . . . and delightful.

After dinner, the students walked (more accurately waddled) off towards their quarters and eventually bed. Harry, however, wasn't quite finished. Scott took him across the atrium and stopped in front of a statue of a mounted knight. Scott took out his wand and inserted it into a slot Harry hadn't seen. When he extracted the wand, the statue moved, revealing a hidden elevator.

Harry laughed. "Are there no end to the wonders in this place?"

Scott smiled back. "If there are, I haven't found them. I find something I've never seen before just about weekly. The elevator takes you up to the Professor's office and quarters. He's expecting you. I'll see you in the morning . . . unless you sort into the Guardians. We have six returning and Lorna makes seven, so we're probably full up, but you never know."

Harry nodded and boarded the elevator. "Good night, Scott. Thanks for all the help."

Jinx, who had eaten as much as some of the students, was sound asleep in Harry's arms as the elevator took them up. The doors opened on a short and unadorned hallway with an ornate door at the end. Harry looked around; then shifted his pet, walked up and knocked.

"Come in, Harry," Professor Xavier's voice came from within as the door opened by itself. "Did you enjoy dinner? It certainly seems that your friend did."

Harry entered and closed the door behind himself.

"It was delicious," he said as Jinx kicked in his sleep. "I've never seen so much food in one place at the same time."

Xavier smiled. "The practice of our powers burns a great deal of energy. We therefore require an equally great deal of caloric intake to replenish that energy. As a side effect, the community has a much lower incidence of obesity than the country or even the world at large. Not exactly pertinent information at the moment, but interesting, nonetheless."

Harry nodded, but had nothing to add at the moment. Instead, he looked around the office. The room was wood paneled and lined with bookshelves. The carpet was thick and luxurious. The Professor's large ornate desk sat in the center of one wall, with more shelves behind it. Two doors opened into the room; the one Harry had just used and another he assumed led to Xavier's private quarters. The corners of the office starting at Harry's left contained a coat rack on one side of the desk and a standing bird cage containing a fire fletched bird. Opposite the door on the far side of the room from the cage was a table with various containers and devices. To Harry's right was an easy chair with a book laden end table and an ornate floor lamp. Harry felt the room fit Professor Xavier rather well.

"Have a seat, my boy." Xavier gestured with his wand and a comfortable padded chair appeared in front of his desk. "There will be a much larger Sorting Ceremony in a month when the term actually begins, but early arrivals are normally sorted immediately so they can get to know their teammates."

Harry nodded. "What team do you think I'll be sorted to?"

Xavier chuckled. "I have no idea. That's up to Cerebro, but you'd be a benefit to any team you joined."

Harry nodded again. "What's Cerebro?"

Xavier floated his chair from behind his desk to the corner table and chose a high tech looking helmet covered in tubes, lights and knobs from the assortment of things there. "This is Cerebro; rather, the facet of it we use for this purpose. It's a masterpiece of technomagic, if I do say so myself. I designed it years ago to help locate young wizards and mutants such as yourself when it became apparent that more and more were being born to families outside the community everyday."

"I learned about ten of the teams at dinner," Harry told the Professor, then rattled off the names. "Guardians, Avengers, Marauders, Hellions, Defenders, Youngblood, Champions, Excalibur, Delta Team and Paragons."

"There will be a total of seventeen this year," Xavier reported. "The others are the Protectors, Corsairs, Warriors, Troubleshooters, Wild Bunch, Templars and Rangers. Each team has its own personality. Cerebro will help determine which one you'll fit in with best. There have been innumerable other teams over the years, but the Templars and Corsairs are the only ones from the first class still being used."

Harry considered. "What if I don't like the choice Cerebro makes?"

The Professor smiled enigmatically. "You needn't worry about that. Once you put the helmet on, you'll understand."

Harry shrugged and accepted the device. When he placed it on his head, it covered his eyes. At first there was nothing but darkness. Then he felt the presence.

"Now," a voice said in his head, "this is an interesting one. You, my boy, could do so well in so many teams. I sense great bravery, great intellect and great creativity in you, but great pride and anger as well. I've rarely encountered one student with as much potential for light as for darkness. The Hellions would be a good place to develop that promise."

"Not the Hellions. Please, not the Hellions."

"No?" The helmet seemed almost amused. "You could do very well there. Oh, well. That makes things a little more difficult. You have what it takes to make a good Marauder; possibly even as good as your father, but that might be a waste of your full potential."

Harry didn't know about that one, but Cerebro wasn't finished. "Hmmmm. You're definitely a fighter; enough to qualify you for several teams. Given your mix of strength and intelligence, however, only one of those teams would develop your full potential. Yes. That will work nicely. You, my boy, are a Champion."

Harry reflected on the members of the Champions he met earlier. Buffy, Clarice, Helen and Peter seemed nice enough. He had to admit that Cerebro made a good choice.

Xavier was smiling when Harry removed the helmet. "I doubt I could have made a better choice myself. Let's go get you settled in, then."

Xavier gestured again with his wand and a portal in space opened up. "My chair is fully capable of maneuvering the mansion's stairs, but it does so with some difficulty, so we'll take a shortcut."

They exited the on a landing several levels above the atrium floor. There seemed to be no doors on this level, but there were several paintings; all of which seemed to be alive. Xavier led Harry to one depicting a rather robust blonde opera singer.

"Hello, Madame." Xavier addressed the painting.

"Why good evening, Professor," the woman responded. "And who is this new young Champion you're bringing me."

"Harry Potter, Madame," Harry responded, although it seemed odd to be talking to a painting. "Pleased to meet you."

"Well mannered, too." The woman beamed. "Do enter and welcome to the team."

The painting swung open revealing itself to be a doorway as well. Having been alerted mentally by Xavier, Buffy and the others were in the common room when they arrived. All four of them seemed quite happy to have him on their team. Xavier departed quickly leaving them to get to know each other.

Jinx woke up just long enough to look around the room, then yawned, purred and went back to sleep. Harry carefully placed the dracat down on a nearby ottoman and turned to the others. Then there were fresh greetings and welcomes to the team.

"Welcome to the Champions, Harry," Buffy told him. "Since the whole team graduated last June, we're going to be the only team with no upperclassmen to show us newbies the ropes. No worries, though. I've lived here since I was nine."

"That also means no upperclassmen to push us around," Clarice put in. "So, Harry, what are your powers? I bend space and teleport."

Harry scratched his head. "You know . . . I really don't know. I've known I was a mutant for less than two days. The Professor says I can control chaos or something. I've never done anything with it. Only thing I have done was accidentally go astral traveling yesterday to escape my annoying cousin."

"Accidentally?" Helen was skeptical. "The books I read claim that accidental astral travel is all but unheard of and almost always fatal."

Harry shrugged. "I'd have been in real trouble if the Professor hadn't been there to bring me back."

A little uncomfortable, Harry changed the subject. "So what can the rest of you do? What are your powers?"

Helen started. "I'm a low grade telepath, but my main power is my ability to absorb and retain information. I've been here a week and I've already memorized all the textbooks we'll be using this term."

Peter took over. "I have the proportional abilities of a spider. I know it seems pretty icky, but it's actually really cool. I'm extremely strong and really agile. I can walk on walls, communicate with insects and arachnids, and shoot webs from my wrists. I even know when I'm in danger. I call it my spider sense."

Harry nodded. "When you put it that way, it does sound pretty cool. If you get good with that web shooting thing, it could be quite useful in Quidditch. You'd probably make a great beater."

Buffy laughed. "I like the way you think, Mr. Potter. I wish I'd thought of it. Since we're all first years, they don't expect us to be much of a threat. I plan to surprise a lot of people."

Harry grinned. "So, Buffy, what are your powers?"

"I'm a slayer," she announced, then realized that Harry and Helen at least probably didn't know what that was. "Every generation, a handful of mutants - - all girls, for some reason - - get the same powers. We're all instinctively extremely good at permanently killing vampires. We have some kind of ancestral memory thingy. We're stronger, faster, tougher; have better night vision, heal faster, that sort of stuff. We also have this innate ability to tell when someone's a vampire. Unfortunately, we're also more susceptible to becoming vampires, but that isn't something I like to think about."

Harry nodded. "I didn't know vampires were real, but I'm not actually surprised. I think someone mentioned them, but I was focused on other things. I didn't know mutant wizards were real until yesterday, either."

Buffy continued. "Vamps aren't anything like what you read in novels or see in movies. There are three courts . . . rather two since a team of wardens wiped out the Red Court a little over a year ago. The White Court is hereditary. They feed off the emotions of others. You aren't turned into a White Court vampire, you have to be born one; not that that makes most of them any less monsters, of course. Their victims become emotional zombies addicted to their powers."

Helen interjected. "I read that it's the Black Court you really need to watch out for."

"You got that right," Buffy agreed. "Black Court vamps are basically demons animating human corpses. They're the ones everyone thinks of when they think of vampires. They're monsters; completely irredeemable. Anyone killed by a Black Court vamp has a strong chance of rising as one after seventy two hours. They have the memories of their host and can mimic their personalities, but are evil to the core. Most of them look human until they go into battle mode. If you run into one that looks like the nosferatu from that old silent movie, run. By the time their outside gets as corrupted as their inside, they're very old and very powerful."

After that, conversations moved on to more pleasant subjects as the five new friends and teammates spent the next hour just chatting. Inevitably, however, they one by one succumbed to the call of their beds. Peter led Harry to a door on one side of the common room, while the girls headed up the stairs on the other side.

"There's a bedroom on each side of the common room," Peter told Harry. "Right now, it's just you and me in here. That will change as more students arrive; depending on how many students we wind up with on the team, each room can comfortably house six students. Don't worry, I don't snore and I sleep like a log, so I won't mind if you do. Besides, the curtains on the beds are charmed to block out noise."

Harry was surprised to find his suitcase and backpack already waiting for him, but he let it pass. He'd left it in McNally's while exploring Diagon Alley, then in the trunk of the limo when he arrived at the school. For some reason, he never considered putting it into his bag.

Remembering the bag and its contents, Harry pulled out the two scrapbooks and spent the next hour thumbing through them before exhaustion finally took him and he fell asleep with them spread out on the massive four poster bed.

Harry slid almost immediately into an incredibly lucid dream. He was back in the park. It was a beautiful summer day; extremely peaceful. Strangely, there didn't seem to be anyone else there. Harry wasn't scared, however. It was just strange, not foreboding.

Harry found himself strolling through the park towards his favorite tree. Suddenly he was no longer alone. Someone was sitting in his tree. The boy was tall and thin, but seemed to be about Harry's age. He wasn't particularly well dressed and looked slightly emaciated.

"Hello," Harry greeted the young man.

"I see why you like this tree so much, Harry." The boy didn't look down, but continued staring up into the sky.

"Yes. It's comfortable and just isolated enough. If you don't mind me asking, who are you? I have this feeling I should know you. Have we ever met before?"

The boy smiled enigmatically and spoke with dry humor. "We've actually known each other almost all your life. You don't remember me because you weren't ready to deal with what I represent. Now that you've claimed your legacy, we can finally get to know each other. I've been so looking forward to this day, Harry. You can't even imagine."

He jumped lightly down. "As for names, you can call me Tom Riddle."

Harry jumped back, his face contorted in anger. "Apocalypse!"

Tom's expression became extremely sad. "No. I'm not Apocalypse. I'm the last vestige of what little was good and decent still left in him when he attacked you eleven years ago; the last shred of his soul, if you will. Tell Professor Xavier that Apocalypse discovered the secret of immortality through the use of horcruxes. You were the seventh and last, but you weren't intentional. Something went wrong. Chaos, if you will. The curse backlashed on him; nearly destroying his physical body; weakening him and creating me."

He paused as he and Harry moved over to a shady bench and sat down. "Tell the Professor that Apocalypse isn't dead. He can't be killed. You have to destroy all six of the other horcruxes first, then I must die before you kill him. Only that will permanently destroy him."

"Why are you telling me all this?" Harry wasn't sure what to do about this. "Aren't you betraying . . . yourself?"

Tom laughed dryly. "You, my boy, are a treasure. No. I'm most definitely not betraying myself; at least not in the way you might think. I want and have nothing to do with Apocalypse. I hate everything he represents; everything he made me. I'll do anything I can to help get you ready to face him."

Harry cocked his head. "You said not in the way I might think. What does that mean?"

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "Nothing you need to worry about. As I said, before you kill Apocalypse, I must cease to exist. Once you destroy him, my presence will no longer serve any purpose anyway. No matter. I wasn't supposed to exist in the first place. I'm here only to fulfill one purpose; one prophecy if you will."

Harry still had some questions. "How did someone like you become something like him?"

Tom looked off into air. "He was never like me. I guess you might say rather, that I'm what he could have been. Sadly, he was doomed from the start. He's the product of his environment and upbringing. That's not an excuse. He had plenty of chances and spurned them all. Xavier in particular did everything he could to turn the boy around, but failed. Even so, every person, even the most evil, has the potential for good in them; a conscience; a soul; an image of God. In the case of Apocalypse, I'm what's left."

He turned to Harry with an intense expression. "What I offer you is knowledge. I don't know all of his secrets, like where he hid his other horcruxes, but I know how he thinks. I know his weaknesses. I know everything he knew about magic and spell casting. I can teach you tricks that other teachers don't know. I'm not talking dangerous short cuts. I know about those as well, but would never pass that knowledge on. I'm talking things like ways to counter the three unforgivable curses; tricks he created to protect himself from others using such spells on him."

Harry wasn't sure why, but despite everything that screamed the opposite, he knew he could trust this person. He'd seen Apocalypse and this wasn't him.

**Writer's Notes:**

**So, Logan fills the role of Hagrid (whose first name will be Reuben when we do meet him) as groundskeeper. He's that and a lot more. His relationship with Harry goes back a lot further and will be very different, of course.**

**I replaced houses with teams, prefects with team leaders and best boy with Student Captain. It's a matter of cultural precedence. Xavier's is an American school. Hogwarts, decidedly British. Being more than a little OCD, I also figured that if four houses were good, sixteen teams could only be better. I finally stopped at seventeen. I know it's probably a mistake, but I'm not changing it, so sue me.**

**I kept the main hall and dining hall much the same, but added elevators for a more modern/technomagic touch. The exterior of the school is the X-Mansion. The interior is pure Hogwarts.**

**Pietro, of course, is going to be Harry's Draco. I see him as an annoyingly egotistical, but generally decent person who's been fed many, many lies and bought into them wholesale. That will change as time and terms pass. He's still going to be a jerk, just not evil. Why his sisters aren't as screwed up as he is, is a story for another time and may eventually be explored.**

**I introduced Albert Dumbledore in reference, at least, in this chapter. He's the current Merlin of the White Council, which is heavily out of the Dresdenverse, but contains people from several sources.**

**I merged the sorting hat with Cerebro. It seemed a no brainer. I also introduce Buffy in this chapter. She's younger and not the only slayer, but the one in this story. This chapter also includes descriptions of the surviving vampire Courts. As for the slayer thing, I decided to make it a bit of a two edged sword in that it gives power, but also makes the girl more susceptible to being turned. By the way, Faith and Kendra will both be appearing later as vampires.**

**As for the presence of Tom Riddle in Harry's head, I see it as being a bit like the voice of Prophecy in the Belgariad and Malloreon pentalogies by David and Leigh Eddings. It's also my take on what could have happened when Harry became the seventh horcrux and the spell went awry.**

**That's it for Chapter Four, folks. Hope you've enjoyed it. Let me know what you think, but remember, I never claimed to be rewriting the Potter novels. This is my own story that takes place in a parallel universe. Peace.**


	5. Chapter 05 - Learning Curve

Chapter 5: Learning Curve

When Harry woke up on his first morning at Xavier's it took him a moment to get his bearings. He realized immediately that he wasn't home. The canopied bed was much larger than his bed at home; much more comfortable, too. What woke him was Jinx chattering at him; demanding attention. It seemed the young dracat was hungry and a bit indignant at his new owner's ambivalence.

"Okay." Harry laughed, scratching Jinx' ears. "I'm up. I have a few things to do before breakfast, but I'm up."

As he climbed out of bed, he discovered that Peter was already up and gone. He was grateful that his roommate decided to let him sleep in. Getting dressed, he organized his thoughts and decided to try contacting the Professor.

_**Professor?**_ He wasn't sure if it would work, but figured it was worth a try.

_**Good morning, Harry.**_ The response was almost immediate. _**I trust you slept well.**_

_**Very much so, sir.**_ Harry smiled. _**Thank you for asking. I met someone in a dream, however. We've known each other for a very long time, but I wasn't able to remember him until now. He says his name's Tom Riddle and he's all that was good and decent left in Apocalypse when he attacked me. He had a lot more information for you, too.**_

Xavier was neither particularly concerned nor disturbed, but neither was he happy. _**Harry, take a seat on your bed and relax your mind. Try to envision a white sheet of paper with nothing written on it. I need to have a look at what you saw last night.**_

Harry did his best to comply, but felt nothing. After a few moments, Xavier's mental voice returned; calm and unconcerned. _**Go down and get some breakfast, my boy. Afterwards, come up and see me. I'm going to introduce you to one of the teachers here. She and I will want to know exactly what your friend, Tom, told you.**_

Harry left the team's residence with Jinx on his shoulder and his bag hanging from his belt as its designers intended. After a few abortive attempts with stairways that suddenly moved with him on them, he finally made his way to the main floor and into the dining hall. Breakfast was already in full swing, but there was plenty left to eat and it was all still good and hot. Despite how much he'd eaten the night before, he was famished. Apparently, Professor Xavier was right about using abilities burning calories.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Peter called, waving him over to the table where the rest of the Champions were eating. "Glad to see you made it to breakfast before we were all finished. Sleep well?"

Harry smiled and took a seat with his team. "Very. Jinx finally woke me up."

The small animal had already stolen an apple from a bowl of fruit and was making fast work of it.

A couple of the others laughed at Harry's comment. "He must have a bottomless pit for a stomach."

"We were planning on getting some time in the Danger Room this morning," Buffy told him as he began digging into his own plate.

"Danger Room?" He swallowed a mouthful of food and took a drink of milk before speaking.

"It's just called that," Clarice assured him. "It's where we and the other teams train in using our powers most effectively. It's really cool."

Harry nodded. "Professor Xavier said he wanted to see me after breakfast, but if there's time after that, I'd love to join you. Like I said, I don't know what I can do, but I'd love to find out."

Buffy thought about that for a moment. "It's eight thirty now, what say we get together in the common room in an hour. That will give us a couple hours to train before we need to clean up for lunch. This afternoon, Professor Monroe promised to hold her first flying lesson."

Harry smiled. "Professor Xavier should be finished with me by then, I hope. As long as I can find my way back to our quarters, I'll do my best to be there."

Buffy gave him a friendly slap on that back. "That's the spirit. It will give you a chance to meet our faculty advisor, Professor McGonagall. She teaches Transfiguration and English."

Helen gave him some advice about the stairs. "To find your way home, just look for the Fat Lady's picture; that's what everyone calls her. She'll turn up where you least expect, but if you're specifically looking for her, you'll eventually find her. That's how the magic on the stairs works. According to 'Xavier's Academy: A History', if you know where you're going and keep your mind focused on it, you'll eventually get there. It's not perfect, but it apparently gets easier the longer you're here."

Harry considered that and nodded. It made sense once you accepted the existence of mutants and magic. It was the first time he realized that was exactly what he was doing.

After breakfast, Harry crossed the atrium, inserted his wand into the statue and took the elevator up to the Headmaster's office. Inside, he found Professor Xavier with a blonde woman dressed all in white. He wasn't sure he liked the look of the blonde. She seemed to be looking down her nose at him. He wasn't going to let that affect how he reacted to her, however.

"Harry," Xavier began, "this is introduce Professor Emma Frost. She teaches Divination, Astrology and Business classes here at Xavier's. She's also the woman who made the predictions regarding you."

"Pleased to meet you, Professor Frost." Harry nodded respectfully.

The woman considered him for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose you'll do. Just don't expect deferential treatment. If anything we'll be harder on you than the other students. None of them are prophesied to one day battle the Dark Lord."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry responded.

Xavier changed the subject. "Now, let's get to this new issue. Tell me what this 'Tom' told you."

Harry did his best to remember everything. "He said to tell you that Apocalypse found a way to become immortal. He used something called horcruxes."

Professor Frost blanched slightly at Harry's casual use of the name, but it was the horcrux issue that made her comment. "I've heard that term before. I'm not sure how it works, but it's extremely dark magic."

Xavier's expression showed great concern. "The darkest kind, Emma; the darkest kind. Creating a horcrux requires an act of irredeemable evil and stores a part of the caster's soul in another creature or object. If the caster creates seven of these, they become immortal and unkillable as long as even one horcrux survives."

Harry compared that with what Tom told him. "He said I was the seventh horcrux, but I was an accident. Apocalypse didn't intend to put his 'soul' into me. The same power that destroyed his body did it."

He paused. "He said we have to destroy the other six horcruxes, then he needs to seek to exist, before I kill Apocalypse. He doesn't know what or where the others are, but he says he's as anxious as we are to destroy the Dark Lord. I'm not sure why I feel this so strongly, sir, but I think we can trust him. I came to . . . understand the man when I went back and witnessed my parents' murders two days ago. Tom's not Apocalypse; not even close. He's completely different."

He paused; trying to find the right words. "Even though he knows that destroying Apocalypse requires the end of his existence. He accepts that and still wants to help me do what I have to. He said no man, no matter how evil is without a conscience; a soul; an image of God. He's what Tom Riddle, the man, might have become had he made different choices or chances. He knows how Apocalypse thinks. For one thing, he claims there's a way to effectively counter and defend against all three unforgivable curses. I think he's offering that knowledge to prove his intentions."

"It makes sense," Xavier mused. "It's definitely something Apocalypse would have been interested in. If you live by the sword, after all, you have to be ready to die by it. He lived by those curses. He'd want a secure way to defend against them . . . one that didn't require him to be faster than his opponent."

"Faster?" Harry wondered.

Professor Frost answered him. "It's said that the faster opponent will as often as not defeat the stronger. If you can act fast enough to keep your opponent from casting his spell - - disarming him with an expelliarmus spell, for example - - you will have an advantage in most battles."

Xavier nodded. "Every battle has elements of chaos to them. With his love of order, that must irk Apocalypse to no end. He's always been willing to go to great lengths in order to minimize the influence of chance and chaos in his existence. If he has a weakness, that is it."

Harry suddenly took paper and pen out of his bag and started writing, using the corner of Xavier's desk. Charles and Emma noted that Harry wasn't looking at what he was doing. In fact, he wasn't looking at anything. His eyes were glazed and staring into the air.

Emma was about to act, but Xavier stopped her. "Hold off. He's in no danger. His 'friend' seems to be guiding him. Let's see what he comes up with."

Several minutes later, Harry returned to his senses and almost fell over. Professor Frost helped him into a chair and performed a quick scan on him. He was extremely dizzy and tired, but otherwise uninjured. He'd produced five pages of tightly written equations.

"Such a waste," Xavier noted bitterly as he looked over the documents. "Such a brilliant mind. He could have accomplished so much."

Frost was even more impressed. "Brilliant is an understatement, Charles. I pride myself with possessing no small talent in the various fields of Arcane Science, but I comprehend less than half of this. It incorporates multiple disciplines in ways I've never even considered. We have to show it to the others."

Harry shook his head to try to clear out some of the cobwebs. "Tom says it produces a device that absorbs the energies generated by abusing magic or powers. It then instantaneously re-channels that energy to counter the spell or power. He believes you can reverse engineer it to create something that will accomplish the same end in ways more appealing to your sensitivities."

He actually laughed. "I don't understand much of what I just said, but it sounds pretty good."

Xavier smiled. "Even if we can't use these notes for their original purpose, they'll have many other applications; potentially more than we can even imagine."

He paused. "It remains to be decided what to do about your friend. As concerned as I am about such possessions, I have to admit he doesn't seem to be a threat. Rather, he has the potential to be a valuable asset. What is your opinion, Harry?"

"My opinion, sir?" Harry stood up. "I don't think he's dangerous. I think he wants to help and I don't think I can afford to turn down any help I'm offered."

After leaving the office, Harry had time to unpack and settle in before the others gathered. In addition to a bed for up to four students, the large room even had a dresser, wardrobe, bookcase and desk for each. The accommodations were anything but Spartan.

Harry put the clothes he'd brought or bought away and stocked the desk with his new school supplies. He put his school books and the other books he purchased in the bookcase, but kept the two photo albums, his invisibility cloak and the sword in his bag. For some reason, he didn't want to share those yet.

Only once he was finished and turned to make his bed did he realize someone made it while he was at breakfast. "Now, who did that?"

"House faeries." Peter arrived. "You never see them; their magic doesn't work if a mortal observes them. They help with housekeeping, laundry and stuff in exchange for a place to live and treats like milk and honey . . . or pizza. It's not something you question or investigate if you don't want them to get nervous. They befriend people for whatever reason, then take care of them and their families for generations because of it. I heard the Professor's family has ties to several tribes."

"Pizza?" Harry looked at Peter.

Peter shrugged. "That's what I heard."

Harry and Peter quickly changed into their gym clothes and joined the girls down in the common room, where Harry turned to Jinx. "You're on your own for a bit, Jinx. Be good. Don't get into too much trouble."

Jinx chittered and sat there looking innocent.

Together, they headed to the main floor where Buffy led them to a portrait of the Professor that opened to reveal an elevator that took them down to the subterranean sections of the mansion.

A severe woman wearing black robes and a bent pointed hat was awaiting them when they stepped off the elevator. "Good. You're right on time. It's an excellent discipline to begin developing even at your age. Follow me."

The five obediently, even automatically, fell into line behind her as she led them down a side hall and through a massive pair of vault like doors. "Hurry along, children. For those of you who are new, this is the Danger Room; so named by students so many years ago that it has become official. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, your Faculty Sponsor. We have the room for two hours, so let us start with some basic stretching and calisthenics. Mr. Parker, will you lead the class. Yes, Miss Grainger, that includes you. The power of your mind is closely tied to the health of your physical body."

Peter was a harsh taskmaster, but given their abilities, he and Buffy performed far more difficult and demanding versions of the exercises done by the others. For example, they did one handed handstand push ups instead of the standard ones the others did, and had to do twice as many twice as fast at that. When Professor McGonagall called an end to the exercises, fifteen minutes later, Harry and Helen were huffing and puffing; Clarice, being in better shape, was still sweating; Peter and Buffy were hardly getting started.

"That will be enough of that for the moment," McGonagall informed them. "Thank you, Mr. Parker. Two points to the Champions for your efforts."

She gestured and part of the room transformed into a wrestling mat. "Mr. Parker and Miss Summers, since you seem to still have so much energy, let's start you off with some sparring."

The two high fived each other and jogged over to the mat. Prof. McGonagall turned to Clarice as several platforms appeared in the air and high on the walls.

"Miss Ferguson, shall we see if you can beat your previous best time on the obstacle course?"

As Clarice vanished, Prof. McGonagall turned to Helen. "Now that you've worked your body, Miss Grainger, I'd like you to try that meditation exercise we've been working on. I believe you are ready to perform it without assistance."

As Helen enthusiastically headed over to another mat that appeared, this one with several candles burning at various positions and heights, Prof. McGonagall turned at last to Harry.

"First, Mr. Potter," she said as the room vanished, replaced by an open grassy plain, "I'd like to personally welcome you to Xavier's and to the Champions. I have great hope for this team."

She noted his shocked and overwhelmed expression. "I assure you that this is an artificial environment created by complex illusions and force fields. We are still in the Danger Room, merely separated from the others by powerful barrier spells. Given the likely nature of your powers, the shields are for the protection of your companions."

"Am I that dangerous?" Harry's concern and trepidation were obvious.

"Not at all, my boy," Minerva smiled gently. "It's just that chaos powers are so unpredictable. You've already met Wanda Magnus. She was the first born of triplets; her birth coming thirteen years ago just before midnight on July 31st; theirs in the wee hours of the morning of August 1st. Neville long, the other boy born on the same day as the two of you hasn't arrived yet, but will be coming with the rest of the students after Labor Day. Neville's powers manifest as extreme luck, while Wanda can create what she calls hex spheres that have unpredictable results; usually damaging or incapacitating her target in some way. Others in the past have manifested all manner of abilities. Given what you did as an infant to the Dark Lord, however, we feel it's best to be cautious until we have a better idea."

Harry nodded. "What should I do?"

She gestured and a mechanical sphere appeared, floating in mid air, several yards in front of him. "Let's start with something simple. Just focus your will on this sphere. I'll take some readings with my wand and see if we get any bumps."

He stared at the ball and focused his will on it. Nothing happened.

Professor McGonagall simply watched him and nodded. "Now, I want you to focus on attacking the sphere. Don't move. Point and will it to be gone."

This time something happened. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but it was certainly something. When he pointed, a small three dimensional construct of . . . light appeared at the end of his fingers. It was about an inch across and constantly changed shape and color with no pattern Harry could perceive. As much as it seemed to be light, it also seemed solid. He touched it and felt something. He considered the sphere again and then his small creation. In an instant, but construct flew at the sphere and devoured it in a cloud of pure chaos.

"Oh, my." Minerva McGonagall wasn't often surprised, but this was something new. _**Charles, are you seeing this?**_

_**I'm on my way.**_ Apparently, he had been. _**See if he can make the construct appear and vanish at will, or if once created, it simply exists. I'm actually picking up an unidentifiable near sentience from the thing.**_

She nodded. "Mr. Potter, attempt to will your creation to dissolve or return to you."

He did, but the only reaction from the thing was that it began to caper randomly around him. "I don't think it wants to go away, Professor. Is this bad?"

"I don't know, Mr. Potter. I don't know."

She pulled a collapsible pointer from a pocket. She expanded it, then reached out and touched the construct with the tip. There was resistance, but nothing adverse. She then reached out and touched it; a most fascinating sensation ran up her arm, but there was no negative reaction.

Shaking her head in wonder, Professor McGonagall dissolved the barriers and illusion as Professor Xavier entered the room. The rest of the Champions continued with their training. Xavier approached Harry's construct and observed it up close.

He almost smiled. "Harry, my boy, you never cease to amaze me."

Harry didn't know what to think. "What is it, Professor?"

"It's you, Harry," was the last answer Harry could have expected. "Rather, it's part of you; a piece of your subconscious mind, if you will. Once manifested, it seems determined to remain."

He turned to McGonagall. "Professor, the room is currently keyed to you. Please create a force field around the construct. Make it the strongest field the room is capable of creating given the size."

Professor McGonagall saw where this was going and complied.

Xavier nodded. "Harry, please walk towards the door. Don't focus on the construct, just head in that direction."

Harry complied. He hadn't walked more than a few yards when the construct flared. The force field was instantly absorbed in another cloud like, but larger and more powerful than the first. The construct just as instantly resumed its hovering around Harry.

The lightshow attracted the attention of the four other students, who quickly gathered around to get a closer look.

"I don't think we should try to put any obstacle between Harry and that thing." Xavier noted bemusedly.

"I concur." McGonagall nodded.

Xavier continued. "I'm reading instinct and emotion, but not true thought."

He sent a guarded thought to McGonagall. _**Create an image of Apocalypse. Have it appear suddenly and without warning within Harry's sight, but not in his immediate reach.**_

When the image appeared, Harry's anger flared and so did the construct. It struck out with devastating power and destroyed the image with such force that it threw the seven people in the room back several feet. Peter and Buffy landed on their feet. Xavier barely managed to keep control of his chair. Harry and the rest were knocked off their feet.

"What was that?" Harry demanded angrily as he scrambled to his feet; the construct still flaring dangerously.

"Harry." Professor Xavier's tone was stern, but not harsh. "Please calm down. That was a test and a necessary one. We learned a great deal from it."

"Sorry, sir." Harry immediately calmed and actually felt ashamed.

"No apology needed, my boy." Xavier's smile beamed as the construct returned to its quiescent form. "This physical manifestation of your psyche is a construct of purest chaos and entropy. It's most powerful and seems to directly reflect your emotional state."

"I'm afraid it's more than that, Professor." Professor McGonagall studied the readings she took. "Each time that construct attacked, reality itself ceased to exist on the area of the effect. It only lasted an instant each time and the rift healed itself immediately, but that it happened at all is astounding."

Harry looked at them both with concern. "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

Xavier didn't have a response for that. "Not to worry, boy. We'll figure it out. In the meantime, you would seem to have a second pet . . . of a sort. It's definitely alive, albeit a strange life form. As much as it's a part of you, it's not. I must say, I've never encountered anything quite like it before, but then what would you expect from a physical manifestation of chaos."

"Great." Harry wasn't sure how to take that.

"What are you going to name it, Harry," Helen asked as she reached a finger to touch the light, then pulled back at the strange sensation that ran up her arm.

"I don't know." He frowned thoughtfully.

"It's about the size of a golden snitch," Buffy noted. "It even moves like one."

"Snitch?" As Harry said the word, the light blinked happily and seemed to dance.

"I think it likes that name," Clarice laughed.

Professor McGonagall came to a quick decision. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut this session short for the rest of you. Professor Xavier and I need to work directly with Mr. Potter right now. I'll reserve the team some more time tomorrow. For now, please consider this session complete. All four of you did quite well at the exercises I assigned you. We'll talk further about them tomorrow. For now, go get cleaned up and we'll see you at lunch."

Harry wouldn't return to the Champions' common room until shortly before lunch, Snitch floating along behind him. The others were out. Even Jinx was nowhere in sight. He should have been worried about that last, but he was totally spent.

He wasn't physically tired, but he was mentally exhausted. His head hurt. He couldn't remember ever having to concentrate so hard for so long. He wasn't sure what he thought when he first learned what he was, but being a wizard was hard work.

In his room, he undressed, put on his bathrobe, grabbed a towel and his toiletry kit, and headed to the baths at the end of the boys hall. The room was huge and more closely resembled a shallow pool than any tub he'd ever seen, but he eased himself into the water with a sigh and sat down on a submerged ledge in front of a water jet that hit his back just right and started to ease his tension.

He sat there for several minutes, letting the jet pound his back and watching Snitch play in and out of the water. He still wasn't sure what to think about the little construct. If he was reading between the lines of what Professors Xavier and McGonagall were telling him right, it was potentially extremely dangerous. At the same time, though, it didn't seem to be malevolent or difficult to control. In fact, most of the time, it matched his mood exactly. Then again, at one point in the past hour, when he was feeling down and tired, it tried to cheer him up. At least that was what it seemed to be doing. Was he applying human motives to something that most definitely was NOT human? He wasn't sure.

After he was finished bathing and dressed, he started looking for Jinx. He was progressively more concerned when he couldn't find him, but wasn't going to panic yet. He figured he could ask the rest of the team when he got down to the dining hall. Hopefully, one of them knew where Jinx had gotten to.

Down in the main hall, he quickly found his teammates. As he expected, Jinx was with them. He was relieved and must have looked it.

"I hope you don't mind," Helen told him almost apologetically. "I know I should have left you a note. Jinx looked bored, so I took him to meet the owls, including my owl, Hedwig. You should have seen them play with each other."

"It's all good, Helen," Harry assured her. "I'm glad you did."

At that point, Jinx first noticed Snitch. He approached the floating light a little cautiously at first; sniffing it and trying to figure out what it was. Eventually, it reached out a paw to touch it. Twinkling cheerily, Snitch danced to the side at the last instant, so Jinx tried again. Again, Snitch danced just out of the way. It quickly became a game that ranged throughout the entire dining hall; much to the distraction of the other students.

Finally, Harry called an end to it before a disaster happened and called Snitch back to him. He thought for a moment, then deposited it in an inner pocket of his robes. Jinx tried to find it a few times, but Harry quickly distracted the little creature with food, thus ending the show.

Immediately following lunch, thirteen first-years gathered on the school's tree-lined front lawn for flying lessons. Professor Monroe, the Herbology teacher, was a statuesquely beautiful woman. She was Black, but had flowing white hair and stunning blue eyes. She also flew in on her own power; no platform required. An assortment of discs and brooms were laid out in a row on the lawn. They were all older models and well worn, but also well maintained.

Harry got some oohs and ahs when he pulled the Nimbus from his bag. That made him blush a little at the unwanted attention, but at least he wasn't the only one with his own device. The Magnus triplets each had one. Pietro's was even a Nimbus, although his sisters seemed to prefer brooms.

"Everyone choose a broom or disc and stand next to it," Professor Monroe instructed. "Those of you who don't have your own rides, that is."

Buffy, Peter and Clarice all chose discs, but Helen chose a broom. For some reason it fit her. Some of the students seemed more comfortable with the devices than others, but many were obviously first time riders, so Harry didn't feel too out of place. At least he wasn't the only beginner. Helen's friend, Willow Rosenberg seemed particularly nervous.

"This class is a requirement for all students who wish to fly at Xavier's," they were told. "That's regardless of whether you're riding one of these or flying under your own power."

Lorna Magnus and Buffy's cousin, Rachel, were the only two there who could fly on their own and neither was particularly gifted. Both preferred riding to self propulsion. Rachel chose one of the discs, but only after much consideration of her options. Apparently she knew what she was looking for; so did her twin brother, Nathan.

Professor Monroe continued. "Upon completion of this course, whether it takes one lesson or many, you'll be given a test; an obstacle course. Only once you've passed it to my satisfaction will you be permitted to fly without staff supervision. There will be no exceptions."

She smiled. "Actually, riding a broom or disc is as easy as it is fun, so I don't think any of you will have much trouble. The first thing you need to know is that it's nearly impossible to fall off one of these things. The enchantments required by the Ministry bind rider and device while in flight. While not foolproof, it takes serious effort to overcome them."

She paused, then winked. "Any student taking such effort will be banned from flying for the remainder of the school year. That falls under our responsibility to protect even students too foolish to protect themselves. Word to the wise, don't push your luck. Use flying devices as they're designed to be used. We have capable healers here at Xavier's, but broken bones still hurt . . . a lot."

Harry noticed that the professor's instructions were doing nothing to help Willow relax; quite the opposite. By the look of the smirk on his face, Harry was pretty sure that Pietro noticed it as well. Something told him there was going to be trouble.

"Who here has flown before?" Monroe asked.

Several hands shot into the air as Harry kind of half raised his.

"You don't seem too sure of your response, Mr. Potter." She smiled.

"Professor Xavier told me I had one of these when I was real little and loved to ride it. I don't remember it, though. He said I was a natural and it must be in my genes. I'm really looking forward to learning . . . or re-learning."

She nodded. "Those of you who raised your hands, mount up and rise to a height of five feet . . . no more. Then fly out twenty feet straight forward towards the mansion and return."

Harry decided to try it. He stepped onto the wedge and concentrated like the book he had on flying said. The Nimbus shot up immediately and went well above five feet, but he didn't panic and quickly brought it back to the right height, then performed the maneuver. He even managed a near perfect slalom turn before returning. He was rather pleased with himself.

Buffy and Clarice, Buffy's twin cousins and the Magnus triplets did the maneuver as well; Pietro not missing a chance to grandstand a little. Only Helen, Peter, Willow and a girl who Harry remembered was named Paige didn't try it yet.

Professor Monroe smiled critically. "A little exuberant on the lift off, but a good performance all in all, Mr. Potter. The rest of you did very well also, but Mr. Magnus, you will be well advised not to get too cocky. Showing off doesn't impress me; competence does."

She then turned to the four who had never flown before and helped them do the same maneuver. Peter, with his inhuman agility, and Paige, for some reason, did particularly well, but Helen managed to do the maneuver as well. Poor Willow, however, somehow managed to auger her broom into the ground half way out. She landed awkwardly and came up grasping an injured arm. Pietro started laughing, but got elbowed by both his sisters for his trouble.

Professor Monroe was on Willow in an instant, pulling out her wand and waving it over the girl's arm. "It's not broken, but you did manage to sprain your wrist. I'll take you to see Dr. Reyes."

She turned to the group. "The rest of you wait here. If I find that any of you has been flying while I was away, I'll ban you for the year. I'll be right back."

As soon as they were out of sight, Pietro grabbed Willow's backpack. "I think I'll hide this somewhere."

Harry stepped forward. "Put it down."

"Or what?" Pietro laughed.

"You don't want to know." Harry's tone was calm.

"Catch me." Pietro took off with blurring speed.

Shaking his head, Harry pulled Snitch from his robes. "I want that backpack, but I don't want him injured."

The small fractal light vanished, returning an instant later carrying Pietro. He was stunned and a little singed, and his hair was frizzed out. Snitch dropped him on the lawn and the backpack into Harry's hands.

"Thank you, Snitch."

"What the hell is that thing?" Pietro was almost as angry as terrified.

Harry put Willow's backpack back where she left it. "That's Snitch. You saw it at lunch. Now you've seen it in action. It's part of me; the expression of my powers. Professor Xavier and Professor McGonagall say it's chaos energy, kind of like your sister's powers and about as controllable."

"And you sicced that on me?" Pietro was beside himself. "It could have killed me."

"No." Harry shook his head. "I told it not to injure you. You got no worse than you deserved."

"I won't forget this, Potter," he threatened. "Sooner or later, you'll mess up and I'll be there to take my revenge."

"Can it, Pietro," Wanda slapped her brother on the shoulder. "If he hadn't stopped you, I would have and I wouldn't have been so nice."

**Writer's Notes:**

**I made some minor changes to the stairs and portrait placement; no reason; just writer's prerogative. I do need to admit to not liking Emma Frost, which makes her perfect for my Snape. No, she doesn't wear a bustier and panties with hip boots. I don't care how gifted a teacher is, she'd need more than telepathic powers to get away with that with a PTA consisting of the parents of hormone challenged teenaged boys. She does habitually wear white, however.**

**I will have a Snape in the story, albeit under a different name. He's dead, but not forgotten. I'm not sure just how I'll bring him in, but I have him. I'm seeing him as a one time rival for James and possibly later a lover for Emma.**

**I'm still undecided regarding past history between Emma and Harry's parents. I'm leaning towards her being James' first girlfriend and a rival of Lily's. Of course, she's a Hellion, which is my version of Slytherin. Since both Lily and Emma were telepaths, the rival bit makes sense. It's kind of a reverse of the Severus Snape issue, so the dynamic is going to be completely different. Have to see how it works out and develops. The dynamic between her and Harry will also be very different.**

**I replaced house elves with house faeries, an homage to Dresden's faerie friends. I just think having faeries taking care of your cleaning was cooler than elf slavery. After all, you gotta love faeries that love pizza.**

**Professor McGonagall was also introduced this chapter. My take on her is pretty close to the canon, but I wanted to make her a little less severe. She's still very strict, but isn't quite so reluctant to show her affection for her charges.**

**Snitch, the manifestation of Harry's powers is similar to Maxwell's Demon in Christopher Stasheff's "Her Majesty's Wizard" series. Whereas that was a creature of perversity and entropy, Snitch is a creature of chaos and entropy. Snitch also isn't an independent entity, although it may sometimes act like one. It IS Harry, even while it most definitely is NOT. I wanted something different for his powers and I'm pretty sure I found it.**

**I introduce another professor; Professor Monroe; Storm, obviously. In addition to Herbology (she loved her attic garden until she got that gosh awful haircut) and Flying, she teaches Equestrian and Meteorology. Whereas most of the X-Men, like Scott and Jean are good as teens, some, like Xavier, Hank, Emma, Logan and Ororo, simply have to be adults. Since I couldn't make them students, I made them teachers.**


	6. Chapter 06 - Labor Day

Chapter Six: Labor Day

The month of August passed in a whirlwind of activity and was over almost before Harry realized. As Labor Day weekend approached, his mind turned to his grandparents. He'd written them every few days and received prompt responses from his grandmother. He felt a little guilty that he let himself become so busy he'd forgotten how much he missed them. He was looking forward to seeing them and telling them all the things that hadn't made it into his letters.

Friday morning, Mr. Logan intercepted him on his way to the dining hall. The man's rough face was grim. "Harry, you need t' come with me. Xavier needs to talk to ya."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked as soon as the elevator doors shut.

Logan didn't answer, causing Harry's mind to drift through a dozen different possibilities, each worse than the last. By the time they reached the Professor's office, Harry was about to burst. One look at Xavier told him that his worst fears wouldn't compare with reality. The Professor looked almost stricken.

"What happened, Professor," Harry demanded. "Is it . . . tell me it isn't my grandparents."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Xavier steered the boy to a seat. "There was an collision. A hit and run driver hit your grandparents' car sending it off the road and into a tree. There was nothing anyone could do. They both died at the scene."

With those words, Harry's whole world shattered. "Did they catch the other driver?"

"Not yet." Something passed between the two adults as Xavier spoke; a look that told Harry they weren't telling him everything.

"What aren't you telling me?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but knew he needed to.

"Nothin' f'r you t' worry 'bout, kid." Logan growled.

"What?" Harry demanded; not willing to be protected from the truth.

The Professor looked at Logan, then sighed. "The police are calling the collision an accident, but Logan doesn't believe it was and neither do I. We think Robert and Maxine were targeted."

"Why?" Harry couldn't imagine his grandparents having enemies willing to kill.

"There are groups in the mundane world that know about us, Harry." Xavier's voice was resolved. "Some of them want to destroy us for fear that we might someday try to take over. Others want to control us and use us for their own ends. We believe that one of these groups was responsible for the hit and run. Ever since they discovered your mother was a mutant, your grandparents have been active in the Order of the Phoenix. So have many other mundanes, most of whom have mutant relatives."

Logan was madder than Harry had ever seen him. "I've been t' the' crash site. I'm sure the car that hit your grandparents was designed for impact. It had to at least have a roll cage and reinforced bumper to still be drivable after the collision. The tire tracks tell me the car was way too heavy for its size. It was also acceleratin' when it hit them."

Harry could hardly believe his ears as Logan continued. "'Course, none o' this made it inta th' police report. I'm bettin' they were paid off t' bury it. This whole thing stinks of the Initiative."

"The Initiative, Harry," Xavier explained, "is a paramilitary organization. They used to operate under the auspices of the US Government. They went rogue a few years ago after the Ministry managed to manipulate some mundane officials into cutting their funding. They were but the latest government program tasked with looking into the unknown, bizarre and unexplainable; in other words, us. They're a bunch of fanatics that believe that anything they can't understand is evil. If your grandparents got onto their radar, they'd be considered traitors to humanity. The question is, how did they learn about them. We took some rather extreme measures to hide you and by proxy them."

Harry didn't know what to think. He felt like he was drowning. What would happen to him now? How could he go on without his grandparents who had always been so central to his life? Xavier and Logan left him alone in Xavier's office. A bit later, Mrs. Carpenter came in with some breakfast. He really didn't feel like eating, but made an effort for her sake. After a few feeble attempts, Harry finally gave in and just started crying. Charity sat with him and held him and let him release everything. She wanted to cry herself. Maxine and Robert had been good friends. She would miss them.

Outside the mansion, Professor Xavier and Logan met in the apartment where Logan lived above the expansive garage. "I need you to stick extremely close to Harry this weekend, Logan. This attack on his grandparents could be designed to draw him out. Too many of our enemies knew who James and Lily were. Too many know what Harry did eleven years ago."

Logan wasn't happy. "Keep the kid here at th' school. I'm more useful out there hunting down the soon to be corpses responsible."

Xavier shook his head. "Not possible. His grandparents' funerals are being scheduled for Monday. He needs to be there; not for propriety sake, for his own sake. The boy needs closure and the funeral is about as close to it as he's going to get."

He paused. "As for who was responsible, I'm afraid there aren't very many candidates. The only people who knew the identities of Harry's grandparents were members of the Order . . . with two exceptions."

Logan didn't get it at first, but then it began to dawn on him and the rage began to rise. "You think Harry's aunt and her husband betrayed her own parents?"

"Not deliberately," Xavier amended, "but Vernon Dorsey has made no secret of his opinions of the supernatural. Who knows who he may have spoken to? I'll know more after I've had a long overdue talk with them. The only other possibility is that we have another Peter Pettigrew; another traitor in the Order. That I refuse to believe."

"Whatever ya do, Professor," Logan warned, "don't do it alone. If th' Initiative knows 'bout th' Dorseys, they'll be expectin' ya."

Xavier nodded. "Hagrid and Moody will be joining me. The White Council is even sending Ebenezer McCoy to look into things. He'll likely be backed by a team of Wardens. The Council knows who Harry is and how important he is. They want to find out what's going on almost as much as we do."

That afternoon, Professor Xavier caught up with the Dorseys at the Evans home. Robert and Maxine's bodies were still warm and Rose was already measuring the house for drapes. She was going to be rather disappointed.

Doug answered when Xavier knocked. "Good afternoon, Douglas. I would speak with your parents."

The boy smirked. "Mom, Dad, the bald guy's here."

Xavier was ushered into the den where Vernon Dorsey eased his bulky form into Robert Evans' favorite chair. The message was clear, but Xavier wasn't impressed.

"We need to talk about your in-laws' deaths and wills." He kept his contempt for the man tightly controlled.

"What's it to you?" Dorsey was just short of hostile.

"Quite a bit, actually." Xavier smiled. "I'm executor."

Dorsey's ruddy face became a little pale for an instant. "Not last I heard, you aren't."

The Professor wasn't surprised the Evans' hadn't told Rose and her husband. "As of their latest wills; written and notarized two years ago, Harry is to inherit this house and everything in it, as well as the rest of their estate."

"I don't buy it!" Vernon bellowed. "I'll fight it! You'll not rob us of our rightful inheritance! I'll expose you all."

"You will sit down and shut up." Xavier said calmly, but forcefully, backing it up with a subtle application of his powers. "If you even think of threatening to out the boy in order to get some concession, you'll be removed from his life forever, and your memories altered to insure you'll pose no danger to the community. Of course, you're free to choose that option at any point."

Vernon Dorsey had never hated anyone quite so much as he hated Charles Xavier at that moment . . . and he hated more than his share of people. "You'll get yours someday, Xavier."

"No doubt." The Professor responded. "Now, however, I have a few questions for you. Who did you talk about Harry and his parents with? Who did you mention the freak of a nephew who was living with your in-laws?"

"You think I'd talk to anyone about something like that?" Dorsey had no idea what Xavier was talking about.

Xavier moved to leave the room. "I need to talk to your wife, then."

"What's this all about?" Dorsey demanded.

"The collision was no accident," Xavier told him. "Robert and Maxine were murdered and we're pretty sure it had something to do with their relationship with Harry. That means that someone talked. If it isn't you, there are only two more possibilities."

Rose Dorsey stood in the kitchen within earshot of the conversation in the den. Xavier's last comment caused a wave of horror to wash over her. She was still in shock when he rolled into the room to confront her.

"What did you do, Rose?" He could have gotten it from her mind, but knew she needed to say it.

"Nothing," she insisted. "It was just an online support group. After what happened last month, I was concerned about how much control you and that boy had over my parents. They understood. A lot of them had been through similar issues. They had some good suggestions. Some of them were a bit extreme, but I swear I didn't act on any of it."

Xavier had everything he needed. "You didn't have to. There are good reasons for our secrecy, Rose, and you just saw one of them. You didn't intend to, but when you shared information on that website, you signed your parents' death warrants."

"No." She was in denial. "It was you. If you hadn't seduced them with your cause they wouldn't have been targeted. It was their involvement in your . . . society that got them killed."

Suddenly, a bent and gnarled old man appeared with a pop next to Xavier. "We have company."

Alastor Moody was called Mad Eye for good reasons. One of his eyes was measurably too large for his face and gave him three hundred and sixty degree vision, as well as the ability to see through barriers and illusions. He had been a Warden for many years, until it cost him his right leg and his left hand. He was considered by many to be a paranoid old coot, but his paranoia was for good reason.

"The whole area's been vacated." Moody continued. "The animals in the area tell Hagrid that vans are moving into positions; vans full of armed men in body armor."

"Have you heard from the Wardens?" Xavier was already in motion.

"Nothing," Moody growled. "Trust them to get here too late to do any good."

The Professor nodded. "We need to leave, then, before they can employ any technology to trap us."

"You can run if you want," Moody told him, his scowl resolute. "I'm gonna stick around. I wanna have a few choice words with these worthless pieces of excrement. Robert and Maxine were good friends, and I ain't got a whole lot of friends left. I kinda take it personally when someone kills some of the few survivors."

"I'm detecting six vans with six men each," Xavier told his stubborn old friend. "There are very few people I'd rather have by my side than you and Reuben Hagrid, Alastor, but those aren't odds we can win; not given the technology the Initiative has."

Back at the school, Harry was done crying. He was sitting in the Champions' common room, surrounded by friends. Helen Grainger was making some surprising conclusions, thanks to her unique telepathic powers.

"One of the side effects of my powers," she told them, "is a kind of hyper-intuition. The Professor thinks the Initiative was responsible for the deaths of your grandparents, Harry. According to what you've told me, no one knew who or where they were except the Professor, the people he had protecting you and your aunt and uncle. How could the Initiative have found them unless someone told them where they were?"

She paused. "The Professor left shortly after he talked to you, but Mr. Logan has been staying very close to you. I'd be willing to bet they figured this out too and Professor Xavier went to talk to them, leaving Mr. Logan here to protect you. If he did, he could be in trouble. The Initiative is probably waiting for whoever shows up. Why else would they attack your grandparents if not to bait a trap."

Harry was half way to the door. "I have to find Mr. Logan."

"We're going with you," Buffy said, as the others joined them.

As soon as they stepped out the door, Logan found them. "Professor Frost tells me you kids are about t' do somethin' stupid. She's usually right 'bout stuff like that."

"I need to find Professor Xavier," Harry told him. "He's walking into a trap."

"He knows what he's doin', Harry," Logan tried to dissuade the boy, "an' he ain't alone. He's got some good people backin' him up."

"This is my responsibility, Mr. Logan," Harry insisted. "My grandparents are dead because of their relationship with me. Aunt Rose or her husband are probably responsible. If anything happened to the Professor or anyone else because of this, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I have to do something."

Logan could see the boy was close to panicking and given his abilities that would be very bad. "Okay. Outside, all five of you. Wait for me. I got some people t' talk to."

Out on the front drive of the mansion five minutes later, the kids were waiting as Logan came out, followed closely by Professor McGonagall who was arguing with him. Professor Monroe and Dr. McCoy were tailing them.

"I won't condone this, Logan," Professor McGonagall said, "but I won't stop you."

"Tessa lost contact with Chuck," he told her. "That c'n only mean trouble. Ororo, McCoy n' me 'r th' only ones can be spared right now. Harry's got a right t' be involved n' his team is insistin' on helpin' him. Th' three o' us should be able t' keep 'em outta trouble."

Minerva McGonagall was still worried. The Champions were her responsibility. Part of her wanted to go with them, but her responsibility was to the school. They were already short staffed because of the holiday weekend.

Professor Monroe turned to the kids. "Harry, focus on your grandparents' home; it's location and the neighborhood around it. Helen, take that image from Harry's mind and give it to Clarise. Clarise, that should give you the coordinates you need to teleport us all there."

An instant later, the eight of them appeared on the front lawn of the house. They found themselves in the middle of a war zone. Professor Xavier was nowhere in sight, but eight mutants were fighting off several dozen soldiers armed with weapons and technology designed to deal with them. The only person Harry recognized was Mr. Dresden, who spoke to him at McNally's Pub. Could it be a month ago?

Alastor Moody's opinions to the contrary, the Wardens had arrived before it was too late. There were five of them backing Ebenezer McCoy, Blackstaff of the White Council. Even so and with the reinforcements from the school, it would be a tough fight.

Of course, the Initiative called in reinforcements of their own, causing a small army to descend on the now decimated neighborhood.

One of the corners of the house that had been the only home Harry had ever known had collapsed and the second floor was on fire. Several other houses in the neighborhood weren't in much better shape. The soldiers were using heavy weapons including rocket grenades and missile launchers. The mutants were hard pressed and on the defensive, but so far the hastily erected magical barriers protecting them were holding.

"Snitch," Harry shouted, angrier than he'd ever been in his young life. "Take out their weapons, tech and vehicles."

Buffy and Peter ran out, dodging bullets and other things to engage opponents hand to hand, joined by Mr. Logan and Dr. McCoy. Clarise and Harry attacked at range with Professor Monroe. Having powers that were non-offensive and not yet proficient with spells, Helen was a little out of her element.

She was starting to wonder what she was doing there when Harry called out. "Helen, find Professor Xavier. He may need help."

She nodded and headed into the house. In the matter of a few seconds, Snitch had taken out six weapons and two vans. Everything it touched, exploded and seven soldiers fell. Clarise used her powers to shear a couple more, the explosions taking out their wielders as well. Meanwhile, Peter beat and webbed two more. Buffy, however ran into trouble in the form of a soldier with an exo-skeleton and force field. She may have only been thirteen, but she had the talents of untold generations of slayers to call on. Still, she was hard pressed to do more than avoid getting flattened.

"Not so cocky against a human with the right technology, are you, witch?" The man taunted her.

"Compensating much?" She countered, again getting out of the way of a punch that pulverized a section of pavement, leaving a sizable pothole.

An instant later, the man stiffened as sparks flew around him. When he fell, Buffy saw Mr. Logan standing behind him, metal claws jutting from his hands. He simply nodded to her and moved on to his next target. Dr. McCoy bounced, leaped and kicked his way through several opponents. Professor Monroe blasted several more with lightning from on high.

Of course, the original participants in this conflict weren't exactly sitting on their thumbs. Moody blasted weapons out of soldiers' hands or just stunned or petrified them with his wand. Standing over nine feet tall, the half giant, Reuben Hagrid, wasn't a violent man by nature, but he didn't like bullies and that's what the Initiative was at it's core. He grew several feet taller, then transformed into a dragon. Now thirty feet long, he swatted soldiers away with casual sweeps of his hands, wings and tail. Most of those he hit were knocked unconscious. Many suffered more grave injuries.

As for the Wardens, Molly Carpenter kept up defensive spells on the group while Harry Dresden and the three others engaged soldiers with swords and firearms. Ebenezer McCoy, however, was probably the most impressive of the group. The old man in overalls wielded a staff with incredible effect, blasting vehicles and men with bursts of elemental magic.

Inside the quickly decaying house, Helen found Professor Xavier still in the kitchen. "Professor, you need to get out of here."

He nodded. "The Dorseys needed to be dealt with first. Now that they're safe, it's time to end this. Let's move into the backyard."

As they exited the house just before the first floor ceiling crashed in, Xavier considered his student. "I'll not ask what you're doing here, Miss Grainger, but have you ever anchored another telepath before?"

She blinked. "Only in training, sir, and only once."

"You know the basics, then." He smiled. "I'm about to leave my body to do deal with this threat. I need you to help guide me back if I get in trouble."

She swallowed. "I'll do my best, sir."

He had no doubt of that. "That's all I could ever ask."

Helen watched as Xavier closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep. Her mind, however, could see him depart from his body. As she'd been taught, she reached out mentally and attached a telepathic tether to him. If he ran into trouble, the link would enable her to locate him. At least that was how it was supposed to work.

In the street outside, nearly fifty Initiative soldiers remained active and the mutants were beginning to tire. Buffy had a lot of scrapes and cuts, as well as more than a few bruises. Peter had a dislocated shoulder. Two of the Wardens were in a lot worse shape and those who weren't were tiring rapidly. Dr. McCoy and Alastor Moody were both unconscious. Harry and Clarise weren't injured, but they were definitely on their last legs. Mr. Hagrid, Mr. Logan and Professor Monroe were still going strong, but they were only three.

Suddenly, the attackers simply stopped moving and Xavier appeared in their midst. "Everyone please withdraw to the school. There's nothing more to accomplish here. Those who can teleport or apparate, help those who can't."

As they gathered, Xavier returned to his body and he and Helen joined them.

"You may be done, Professor," Ebenezer McCoy said, leaning heavily on his staff and bleeding slightly from a wound on his leg, "but I have some questions for these Initiative soldiers."

"I've already gathered all the information we'll need, Councilor McCoy," Charles assured the man. "These men are trained to resist interrogation, but not telepathy."

McCoy nodded, then nodded to the Wardens and they all vanished, taking their wounded with them.

"Are you up to taking your team home, Miss Ferguson?" Xavier asked.

"Yes, sir." She was more exhausted than she'd ever been, but she wasn't about to let her team down.

As the sun set, a strange calm settled down around the school. The injured were convalescing. The rest were recuperating. When Professor Xavier called him to his office, Harry almost jumped, then was hard pressed not to run down the stairs or maybe jump off the landing and ride his Nimbus down. Neither would have been tolerated, of course.

As he stepped off the elevator, Harry found the door to the Professor's office open. Looking into the room, he saw the Professor, the old man from the fight, Ebenezer McCoy, Harry Dresden, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Logan waiting for him. All five wore grave expressions, even the normally ebullient Dr. McCoy.

"Hello, Harry," Xavier greeted him. "Come in. Councilor McCoy, I'd like to formally introduce you to Harry James Potter."

The old man rose to shake Harry's hand. "It's a pleasure, Harry. We didn't have a chance for introductions before, but I wanted to thank you and your team for your timely intervention earlier. I hear a lot of good things about you from the Headmaster, as well as my grandson and nephew here."

Harry hadn't known that Mr. Dresden was the old man's grandson or that Dr. McCoy was his nephew, but he wasn't exactly surprised; as he'd been told, the mutant community wasn't that big. "Thank you, sir."

"Have a seat, Harry," Xavier offered.

He complied. "With all respect, sir, I need to know what you learned. My grandparents were killed because of me. I . . . ."

Xavier nodded. "That's why we asked you here, my boy. Some may disagree with me, but I believe you're not only mature enough to know the whole truth, you deserve to know it."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry braced himself.

"The Initiative knows who you are," Xavier told him. "We don't know how they got that information, but I have my suspicions. We believe they targeted your aunt; luring her into a paranormal support chat room where she talked about you and complained about how you controlled your grandparents. They used that information to locate and target them."

He paused. "I'm afraid that I'm at least partially responsible. I protected you and your grandparents from magical threats, but I didn't protect your aunt and her family, and I didn't extend that protection to mundane threats. Now, I fear that someone in our community has used the Initiative to accomplish what they couldn't."

Harry certainly didn't blame Xavier for anything. "Who, sir?"

"I don't know for certain," Xavier began.

"But you suspect." Harry knew Xavier well enough to know that. "Who is it?"

Xavier sighed. "The commander of the team that attacked your grandparents' house remembered seeing his superiors meeting with a man with shoulder length white hair shortly before they identified you as a target. As I said, I can't be certain, but this man could have been Lucius Malfoy. He saw us in Diagon Alley that day. He didn't let on that he knew who you were, but he knew your father and you are the spitting image of James. He swore we hadn't heard the last of him and he's not a man to make hollow threats."

Ebenezer McCoy spoke up. "It's not enough to convict the man of violating the Seventh Law, but I intend to have a very pointed conversation with him."

Harry was wary. "Why would he use normal people to do his dirty work?"

"Wouldn't be th' first time that snake used pawns," Logan growled. "Sides, he ain't actin' alone. He's a Deatheater. Means he takes his orders from Apocalypse."

"The Ministry of Magic believes the Dark Lord is dead," Ebenezer said thoughtfully. "They also believe Malfoy's claims that he was forced to join the Deatheaters. There are those on the White Council who are less certain of both assumptions."

"That's not your concern, however," Xavier interjected. "On Monday, we need to honor Robert and Maxine. I hope you don't mind, but in light of recent events, I'll be making some special arrangements for their memorial."

"They'd be honored, sir." Harry was running on adrenalin and starting to crash. "With them gone, the Dorseys are my only family left."

Xavier understood. "You needn't worry about that, Harry. I've dealt with the Dorseys. They'll be protected, but you need have no future contact with them unless you choose. I had intended for you to maintain contact with the mundane world through your grandparents, but I'll not put you into the custody of those people and neither would they. In accordance to their will, in the event of their deaths, you're to become a ward of the school."

He noted the boy's relief and gratitude. "Their house was to become yours, but it was unfortunately a total loss. I was able to salvage several personal items for you before we left, but all that's left there is the property itself. I recommend you sell it and would be happy to make the arrangements for you, but that's up to you and there's no need to rush the decision."

Harry nodded numbly. Next to the barely remembered day when Apocalypse killed his parents, this was the absolute worst day of his life. The only thing that kept him from falling apart was knowing the Professor was there for him.

Monday morning dawned dreary and overcast as befitted the solemn occasion. Wearing an uncomfortable suit he bought specifically for this, Harry waited outside the dining hall for his transport to the funeral. He hadn't asked anyone else to come with him, but first, Helen, then Peter, then Buffy and Clarise all showed up. None of them said anything, but each of the girls hugged him and Peter slugged him affectionately on the shoulder. The Carpenter family arrived next with more hugs. A moment later, Scott led Alpha Team in as a group, followed by several other students and faculty members. By the time Professor Xavier, Mr. Logan and Professor McGonagall arrived, it seemed that half the school was there. Harry was speechless.

"Well," Xavier said with a smirk and a hint of pride in his voice, "it seems we have a few more people attending than expected. Faculty Advisors, please take charge of your teams. All other students gather around me."

Several translocation spells later, the group appeared in the quad of a small private college in Massachusetts where Xavier addressed them. "This is the Massachusetts Academy. It's run by the Order of the Phoenix, of which the Potter family were founding members, as a college for members of the magical community. Those of you raised in the community will already know this, but for those of you who weren't, this is likely to be your first exposure to the place. I should note that the Order offers full scholarships to any graduate of Xaviers with a 3.0 GPA or better who score well on their OWLS and NEWTS."

The campus was beautiful with it's many trees in the final blush of summer. It was a wonderfully peaceful place. Harry thought his grandparents would have liked it here. In a back corner of the campus, was a small cemetary where members of the Order who died in the conflict were laid to rest.

At first shocked to see so many headstones, Harry suddenly wondered if his own parents were buried here. He thought to ask Xavier after the service, but wouldn't need to. His grandparents were being laid to rest right next to his parents' graves. Unwanted tears flooded his eyes at the realization that everyone he considered family would now be together in this small field; surrounded by heroes.

The ceremony was well attended. Other than the people from Xaviers, Harry recognized precious few of them. The half giant, Rueben Hagrid was there, along with Alastor Moody and Ebenezer McCoy. Mr. Dresden was there along with some of the others from the fight on Friday, including Molly Carpenter. A ring of sword wielding men and women wearing the grey dusters of the Wardens surrounded the cemetary and more were scattered around the campus. There was no way the Initiative knew about, much less could locate the college, but they weren't taking any chances.

Harry was introduced to many people who seemed to have known both his parents and grandparents. He wouldn't remember most of them in the morning, but he was grateful for their condolences. As soon as Robert and Maxine were lowered into the ground, several wands came out and the graves filled with dirt that quickly sprouted grass. Then a headstone appeared with both of their names and a semi-interactive holographic image of them. It was almost identical to the one on his parents' graves.

Afterwards everyone slowly filtered away, leaving Harry to his thoughts. He stood there for the better part of an hour staring at the two headstones. His mind was in chaos, but he couldn't seem to tear himself away. Finally, he sighed and turned towards the exit. Several people awaited him at the gate. Professor Xavier was there and so was Mr. Logan. Professor McGonagall and the rest of his team were there as well, along with four other people he didn't recognize.

Harry walked up to the Professor, then leaned over and gave the man a hug. "Thank you, sir. Everything was peaceful and dignified. They would have liked it that way."

Xavier hugged the boy back. "I knew they would. I'd like to introduce you to four people who were probably as close to your parents as any other living beings; the four remaining members of the original Marauders."

Madison Jeffries was dressed in coveralls and looked like a mechanic. Sirius Black has the worn complexion and bloodshot eyes of someone who drank far more than he should, but he was quite sober at the moment. Remus Lupin was dressed in a seedy suit, but carried himself with the dignity of one for whom dignity was all they possessed. Nymphadora Tonks, the fourth member of the group and only woman had pink hair, almost elfin features and dressed like a grown up version of a tomboy.

"Mr. Jeffries," Xavier continued with the introductions, "is a teacher at Xaviers; when he's not serving as our caretaker and general fix-it expert. He's also the faculty advisor for the current team of Marauders."

All four gathered around Harry. Lupin and Tonks were wearing Warden gray and holding hands. It was almost too much to take in, but he felt safer at that moment than he had since Friday when the Professor told him his grandparents were dead.

It was Sirius, however, that Harry spoke to first. "Sir . . . I want to thank you for what you did . . . for . . . for the man who betrayed my parents."

Black's eyes were full of self-recrimination and self-loathing. "I only wish I could have done more. I wish I'd never recommended James and Lily make Peter their secret keeper."

"You have to stop blaming yourself for that, Sirius," Tonks insisted. "All us us agreed he was the best choice; the one the Dark Lord would least expect. None of us even dreamed he was a closet Deatheater."

Remus Lupin agreed. "Wormtail hid his secrets well, my friend. He played his role to perfection. We all share the guilt for that mistake."

"I don't blame any of you," Harry said before he even knew he was speaking. "Least of all you, sir. The Professor told me you were my father's best friend and that you're my godfather; how you gave me my first flying disc; how all of you have been protecting me all these years. I owe you a lot. I owe all of you a lot."

Tears welled up in Sirius' eyes. "It was our pleasure and honor, Harry."

Madison Jeffries nodded. "So say we all."

**Writing Notes:**

**In this chapter, I introduce the Initiative. Here, I'm mixing several organizations, including the Initiative from the Buffyverse, Weapon X and the Friends of Humanity. I wanted them to be the first threat that Harry and friends face. Being as this story mixes the Potterverse with the X-Men and the Marvelverse in general, it's going to be a bit more . . . aggressive than Ms. Rowling's stories.**

**Another change is the destruction of Harry's ties to the mundane world. I started Harry off with his grandparents because I refused to believe that anyone who cared for him would put into the care of his aunt and her husband. Of course, I always planned for the grandparents to be killed and that would have left the Dorsey's as his closest relatives, so I made his aunt indirectly responsible. I want my Harry to have to work to maintain his connections to the mundane world.**

**As for the relationship I created between Ebenezer and Henry McCoy, I had two characters with the same, albeit extremely common, surname. Given that the mutant community is quite small, I decided to have them be related. In the Dresden books, Ebenezer had two children, Harry's mother and Jared Kincaid. I'm not going with the TV show's assertion that Justin Morningway (Justin DuMorne in the books) was Dresden's uncle. I therefore decided to make them uncle and nephew.**

**I turned Emma Frost's Massachusetts Academy into a college for mutants that's run by the Order of the Phoenix. A lot of the same teachers at Xaviers also teach classes at the Academy, but so do a lot of other people. I needed a base for the Order and this seemed to feel right. I also placed a cemetary there, although, Ms. Rowlings never had anything on burials except for Dumbledore's.**

**Finally, I used the funeral to introduce Harry to the other surviving members of the original Marauders, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. I didn't change any of their names because I found them to be rather cool. You gotta love a lady with a name like Nymphadora. I added the Jeffries brothers from Alpha Flight in the Marvelverse to the group. I figure there were originally as many as twelve of them. Now, only the four survive.**


	7. Chapter 07 - Conspiracies

Chapter 7: Conspiracies

When Harry woke up early Tuesday morning, he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. Between his grandparents' funeral and meeting the original Marauders, his mind had been too scattered to sleep easily. Fortunately, he knew today would be too busy to dwell on much else. That would be his saving grace.

As he stood up and stretched, Peter who was a natural early riser entered the room. "I was just coming in to see if you were awake. How are you doing?"

Harry realized that was a pretty dumb question and from Peter's expression, he knew it too, but couldn't think of anything else to say. The fact that his friend cared enough to try meant a lot more than any right words; not that there was any such thing.

Harry shrugged. "I'll survive, I guess. I can't believe they're gone."

Peter nodded. "I remember when my parents were killed. I was just six. My Aunt May and Uncle Ben took me in and raised me. They were . . . are great and I love them a lot, but they could never replace my parents."

He paused uncomfortably. "Look, I know I'm blowing this, but if you ever need to talk or anything or just want someone to hang out with who won't try to make you feel better, I'm here. I remember that the hardest thing to deal with was everyone trying to make me feel better."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Pete. That means a lot; more than you know."

Peter resisted the irrational urge to hug Harry. "Anyway, the girls were hanging out in the common room waiting for you to come out. I figured the last thing you'd want was the three of them fawning over you, so I told them to go ahead to breakfast and we'd join them. I'll be out there when you're ready to go. Remember, school uniforms are required at meals starting today."

"Thanks for reminding me." Harry had been about to pull on a pair of jeans, but put them away and pulled his uniform from the closet. "And thanks for the thing with the girls. I'll be out in a couple minutes."

The Xavier's school uniform consisted of dark blue slacks or skirt, a dark blue blazer and a white shirt. Over this was worn a black robe; usually open. The collar of the robe was done in the Champions team colors; scarlet and gold. A tie was optional and shoes were required, but not specified. Harry chose one of his nicer pair of comfortable athletic shoes and decided against the tie. Once dressed, he stood for a moment staring at himself in the full length mirror and tried to buck up his courage.

Somehow sensing Harry's turmoil, Jinx flitted up to perch on his shoulder, rubbed his head against the boy's cheek and purred gently.

Smiling despite himself, Harry reached up and scratched the dracati's mane. "You're going to get me through this, aren't you?"

Jinx chirruped and batted playfully at Harry's finger as Harry straightened his back, turned and headed out to face the day and the coming school year. He owed his grandparents that much and more. Their last request of him had been for him to go to Xavier's and do well. He could do no less for them and for his parents. In the back of his head, he felt a surge of agreement and support from Tom as he left the room and joined Peter.

Down in the main hall the boys joined Buffy, Clarice and Helen at the Champions table. "I wanted to thank you guys again for being there for me at the funeral. I don't think I could have made it without all the support. My grandparents would have been honored to know all of you and so am I."

Buffy smirked. "Nice speech. You practice it in front of the mirror?"

Harry blushed, then laughed. "Yeah. I didn't want to come down here and stumble over my words, or worse, be speechless."

Clarice hugged him. "You did good, kid. We got your back."

About half way through dinner, Professor Xavier levitated up to make an announcement. "Transportation to the train station will begin promptly after lunch is finished. All students are expected to arrive for their first day on the train, even those who have been here all summer. It's tradition, but there are very real reasons for it. First, not doing so would make you stand out and some would consider you an outsider because of it. Even if everyone knows you were here for the summer session, arriving on the train is a unifying experience and a fresh start. Second, the round trip takes four hours, giving you time to renew old acquaintances and make new ones. There are other reasons, of course, but those two alone are sufficient for us to continue the tradition."

He paused. "These are also the reasons why all first years will be separated at the station in Salem Center and brought in as a group. You will enter with the rest of the first years, then go to your tables while the others are sorted. If anyone has any questions, Prof. McGonagall will be escorting the first years into the main hall and coordinating the sorting ceremony. You can ask her while you wait to enter the hall."

As Xavier floated back down, Harry reflected that had things gone differently, this weekend, his grandparents would have dropped him off at the station near their home. The thought saddened him and almost made him cry, but he refused to break down in front of his friends and teammates. Instead, he focused on his food with a passion usually reserved for the famished.

Across the table, Helen picked up the stray thoughts Harry was accidentally projecting. She really wanted to help him, but she wasn't sure how she could without unforgivably intruding on his privacy. Eventually, she decided that projecting some encouraging and strengthening emotions in his direction wouldn't cross too many lines.

As he finished eating, Harry found he was feeling better. He wasn't over the loss by a long shot, but he was feeling stronger. Whatever else might happen, he knew he'd be able to get through the day. Looking around the group, he noticed Helen focusing on him.

_**Was that you?**_ He deliberately projected the question to her like he'd been taught over the summer.

She blushed. _**Yeah. Sorry to intrude, but you were projecting so much pain I just wanted to help. I didn't force anything; just projected encouragement. Hope it's okay.**_

He smiled and wiped his mouth. _**More than okay. Thanks, Helen. It helped more than you know.**_

She smiled. _No problem. __**Glad I could help.**_

Even as the students at Xavier's finished breakfast, at his palatial home miles away, Lucius Malfoy entered his private office and locked the door behind him, then took out his wand and secured it even further. Convinced that he wouldn't be disturbed, he took an antique key from his vest pocket and unlocked a cabinet next to the door. Inside, stood a mirror; the image therein foggy and imprecise, but definitely not his own reflection.

"My Lord Apocalypse," Lucius greeted the image respectfully and almost fearfully.

"Good morning, Lucius," the raspy voice replied. "You have served me well."

Malfoy was surprised. "I'm honored that you feel so."

The laugh was humorless. "You are no doubt concerned by your failure to get your son admitted to the fool's academy. It is of no matter. I did not expect that even you, my formidable spymaster, would likely succeed at that and will not hold you responsible for the failure. Have no doubt. I have another agent in place and ready to do my bidding within those venerable walls. Young Draco's presence would have been helpful, but is by no means required. He will have another role to play. One for which he is far better suited. I've spoken to Essex and instructed him to take the boy on as an apprentice."

Malfoy was almost as surprised as he was pleased. "We are honored, my lord. I'll tell Draco and Narcissa immediately and begin preparations."

The shade that had once been the most powerful dark wizard in existence nodded sagely and moved on. "I am most pleased with the fruits borne of your interaction with the muggle group, the Initiative. With the deaths of Robert and Maxine Evans and the discrediting of the Dorsey family, the Potter brat's last ties to the muggle world have been severed. This will help to isolate him and weaken him for the moment of my return and his inevitable destruction."

Malfoy preened. "They were easily manipulated."

Two spots where the shadowy figure's eyes would be glowed bright red. "What of our contacts with the other factions?"

Malfoy stepped over to his desk to retrieve his notes. "Our double agent within the traitorous Brotherhood is closely watched, but still manages to report intermittently on their activities. At the moment, none of my cousin's plans show much risk of conflicting with ours. He seems satisfied with cementing his internal organization, but we continue to watch him."

Apocalypse's displeasure was evident in his voice. "I trust this double agent no more than Erik does. She plays far too may sides in this game and her loyalty has always been for sale. The goals of the Brotherhood parallel our own far too closely. We need to begin steps to eliminate them."

Lucius knew that in this case, we meant he. "I've been considering options for precisely that eventuality and believe SHIELD would be a useful cat's-paw. It will be easy enough to stir up conflict between the two groups. That muggle fool, Fury, is already paranoid; particularly since his mudblood son became one of Erik's acolytes. If we play it right, we could even maneuver them into destroying each other. In the very least, both will be weakened and distracted, and there's a high probability of the Brotherhood's complete destruction."

The shade nodded. "Excellent. Continue."

Lucius flipped the page of the tablet he held. "The Hellfire Club has unfortunately rejected our overtures; insisting on maintaining their neutrality. On the other hand, I don't believe they pose a direct threat to our plans. It's my recommendation that we ignore them. As our victory becomes more evident, they'll eventually see the writing on the wall and shift their support to us. Of course, we'll have ample opportunity to make them pay for their insolence once we're secure in power."

He paused, then flipped another page. "Given their convoluted personal agendas, HYDRA and AIM are unlikely to be valuable pawns, but neither are they expected to become threats. What they are can best be described as wild cards. They require close monitoring. To this end, I have agents well placed in both organizations. Should either become a threat to our plans, I'll know it."

"I am pleased." Apocalypse kept his tone neutral. "Be careful, however. You would be a fool to underestimate any of these factions. My mentor, Grindelwald, allied himself with HYDRA for a reason and it was he who failed, not they. AIM is an offshoot of them and a force to be reckoned with in their own rights. They've proven particularly adept at combining magic and technology; something we would be foolish not to take advantage of. Both bear very close watching indeed."

Several hours later, after lunch and dressed in street clothes, the students from the summer session at Xavier's gathered in front of the mansion, garment bags containing their school uniforms in hand, to await transport to wherever they were to board the train.

Harry did a double take when he saw Clarice. She looked the same basically, but had normal colored skin, brown hair and no visible birthmarks. Seeing his surprise, she pushed a button on the slightly oversized wristwatch she wore and her features instantly morphed into her normal appearance.

"It's called an image inducer," she told him. "People in the world outside our community tend to overreact when they see a girl with purple skin."

He shrugged. "Cool. I think you look better normally, but I guess I can understand. A month ago, I'd probably have overreacted at first myself."

Helen, naturally, had read up on the matter of trains and happily regaled her teammates and anyone near enough to hear with what she had learned. "The station in the Nevernever connects with thousands of train stations in the real world; always at platform 9¾. Everyone who goes to one of those stations and passes through the barrier winds up at the very same place. The fact of the matter is that there are a lot faster and more efficient ways to transport students to the school. This one is used mostly out of tradition. It gives students a very tangible transition from their lives outside to their lives at school and gives them a chance to bond with each other before being exposed to the pressures of the school year. I'm not sure I agree with all the psychology involved, but it works."

Jean Grey and the members of Alpha Team weren't too far away, so she interjected a comment. "It has a lot to do with the Nevernever itself. The whole realm is psychoactive. Traveling through it safely, with a group of others, over a span of time, has certain influences on the human psyche. It's nothing overpowering, but it's definitely present. When they say the ride is a transition and a bonding experience, they mean it."

Having only been there once, Harry was fascinated by the Nevernever and was going to ask further questions, but Prof. McGonagall chose that moment to gather them. "Champions, over here. Each team will be sent to a different station so that we don't disturb the mundanes. I'll be sending you to an area others have already cleared. Make your way quickly to the gate and board the train promptly. They have a schedule to keep and timing is important."

Moments later, the five thirteen year olds appeared in a storage room. They looked at each other. Finally, Buffy shrugged and opened the door. They found themselves in LA's Union Station.

"Guess we better find our platform." Buffy took point.

It was a pretty big place for a handful of marginal teenagers. She tried not to show it, but even Buffy, who Harry figured wasn't afraid of anything, was a little intimidated. Clarice, who was no coward, was clinging to Peter, who had his head on a swivel.

Finally, Harry quietly spoke up. "Come on, guys. It's not like anyone even in a place like this could be much of a threat for the five of us together. We're not little kids anymore. They wouldn't have let us come here alone if they thought we were in any danger."

"Harry's right," Helen said once the tension was broken. "In fact, I bet they have people watching over us right now."

"Babysitters," Peter quipped in a rather good Harrison Ford impression. "Why'd it have to be babysitters?"

Buffy laughed. "Hey, Indiana Parker. Where's your whip?"

He smiled. "I don't have one, but my Uncle Ben does. It's a prop from the second movie. He worked on some of the sets, including the temple and the palace."

Buffy nodded. "It wasn't the best movie, but the sets were definitely over the top."

"There are platforms nine and ten," Helen announced. "Our entrance has to be that pillar."

Harry looked around. "No one seems to be paying attention, so let's do this. Peter and Clarice, you go first."

The two looked at each other, then shrugged and jogged into the pillar, disappearing.

"I'll go last," Buffy told Harry and Helen. "You guys go ahead and I'll join you in a minute."

Harry passed through the portal to platform 9¾ with Helen to find that Clarice had de-activated the image inducer and returned to her normal appearance. Looking around as Buffy joined them, he realized that she was far from the only kid that had been using one. He understood the necessity, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Back in LA, Logan dragged a body into another storage closet and tossed it onto the pile of three others. _**Ya readin' me, Chuck?**_

Xavier's response was wry with as much humor as annoyance. _**How many times have I asked you not to call me that?**_

Logan smiled grimly. _**Okay, Charlie. You were right. Four Initiative agents. How'd they know th' kid 'd be comin' here?**_

Xavier rolled his eyes, but decided to move on rather than pursue an argument he knew he'd lose. _**I don't think they did. I have no doubt that they have access to some level of insider information, but they didn't need much to post agents at the country's top train stations. We have platforms at smaller stations, but weren't about to send Harry anywhere too small to hide him in the crowd. Ministry, SHIELD and Order agents in Chicago, Manhattan and several other stations have reported Initiative sightings. Since none of these agents got close to any of our students, no one else was required to confront them.**_

Logan lit a cigar. _**Too bad.**_

Xavier well understood Logan's reaction and knew it was well justified. _**Need I ask if any of your four survived?**_

Logan coughed. _**Yeah. Right. After what these . . . did to Bob and Maxine . . . . What they did to me . . . . No, Professor. None of 'em survived. They weren't about t' surrender an' I didn't ask. My only regret is Stryker wasn't among 'em.**_

Xavier felt great sympathy for his old friend's pain, but knew Logan wouldn't accept it. _**Deal with the bodies, then get out of there. We'll need your help in Salem Center when the students arrive. I don't think the Initiative will make a move there so soon after their loss on Friday, but we're assuming nothing.**_

Logan silently flicked his wand at the bodies, which quickly dissolved, leaving no sign they'd ever been there. _**Ya want me t' hop aboard th' train with th' kids? It ain't left yet. If Malfoy can recruit th' Initiative, I wouldn't put it past him t' recruit some rogues from th' Winter Court.**_

Xavier nodded. _**We've already considered and prepared for that. Remus, Tonks and their team are on the train, as is Sirius, although they've been instructed not to contact Harry personally. We even reached out to the Summer Queen. The White Council called in a few favors. If anyone from the Winter Court tries to interfere with that train, they'll regret it . . . however briefly. I want you in Salem Center before they arrive.**_

Logan's ferocious smile translated into his thoughts causing Xavier to shudder involuntarily. _**On my way.**_

Fenrir Greyback didn't have a palatial home, or even a house, for that matter. He had no interest in the trappings of so-called civilization. Greyback was a werewolf and proud of it. He lived on the road and slept wherever he happened to be when he got tired. If there were people in that place at the time, that was their problem.

Of the many Changing Breeds, Greyback was what was known as a Loup Garou. Many people who didn't know the glory of his power considered his condition to be a curse. Under the influence of the full moon, he became a ravening beast; more monster than man. He and those who followed him embraced their condition and learned to invoke their beast at will. Some even took it further to the point where the line between man and beast became non-existent. Greyback was such a one.

On this afternoon, Greyback had a mission to perform at the upstate New York mansion of Lucius Malfoy, a wizard he'd just as soon gut; after he made the man watch the degradation, torture and death of his delectable wife and sweet little boy, of course. The fact that they were supposed allies was due only to the fact that they served the same dread master. Maybe someday he would repay the uppity wizard for his many slights and affronts, but for now he would bide his time.

At the estate, Greyback encountered the son, Draco, practicing his sword skills in the yard. Unable to resist and unwilling to even try, he decided to play a game with the boy. Prowling through the trees and bushes, he moved to a position near Draco, then leaped with a fierce growl. The boy barely even reacted enough to acknowledge Greyback's presence.

He didn't even turn to face the werewolf. "Father's in his study, Greyback. Do try not to shed on the carpets or track mud. By the way, to my senses, you make as much noise as a herd of elephants tromping through the grass and smell like a dog who hasn't been bathed in months. You're lucky, too. This sword has a good deal of silver in it. If I hadn't known it was you, I might have overreacted."

"That'd be the day, pup." Greyback wanted to rough the brat up so bad he could taste it. If he hadn't smelt the fear that the boy's falsely calm exterior tried to hide and heard the increased heartbeat that accompanied it, he might not have resisted the urge. "You are getting' better with y'r senses, though. Y'r almost up to werewolf standards . . . almost. If ya ever grow a pair and want to taste real power, let me know."

Now, Draco did turn. "I'll pass. Next week, I'll be starting my studies under Dr. Essex. That, kibble-breath, is real power."

That did it. Before Draco could react, Greyback reached for his throat. If the werewolf hadn't pulled his claws back at the last instant, Draco would have died. As it was, he would have several shallow scratches to show for the encounter. Draco, of course, lost all composure and screamed like a school girl, even going so far as to soil himself.

Laughing, Greyback dropped the boy to the grass and loped away towards the main house. He'd made his point. The kid needed to learn respect for his betters. The sooner he learned who they were, the better.

Inside the house, he made his way to Lucius' office and knocked. Greyback didn't have to like it and he didn't, but he knew who his betters were. He knew when and how to pay them just enough respect to stay alive. As much as he hated Malfoy and as many fantasies as he entertained regarding what he'd like to do to the whole family, the Dark Lord's spymaster could only be pushed so far before he decided you were enough of an annoyance to be dealt with. Always careful not to cross the line where Lucius decided he was suddenly expendable, Greyback pushed him right to the edge, but never beyond.

"I would appreciate it," Malfoy said acidly as he secured the door behind his . . . guest, "if you ceased traumatizing my son. Remember that I don't value your services nearly as much as Lord Apocalypse and even he doesn't value them nearly as much as you might hope."

Greyback plopped himself in a chair uninvited. "Just teachin' the brat a valuable lesson, Lucius. He puts a little too much stock in a position he has yet to earn. 'Sides, not like I scarred him or anything."

Lucius ignored the beast man, anticipating the day when he could be done with him, and opened the cabinet, revealing the mirror inside. "The Master requires your report."

Greyback nodded respectfully to the spirit in the mirror. "The Loup Garou Packs, the Hexenwolf Black Spiral Dancers and the Lycanthrope gangs are all on board, my Lord. We even have allies within the Tribes; particularly among the Shadowlords, Get of Fenris and Bone Gnawers, but also to a lesser degree and for their own reasons among the Black Furies, Red Talons, Uktena and Wendigo. The cursed Silver Fangs, Glasswalkers, Children of Gaea and Fianna still side with the White Council, while the Stargazers and Silent Striders are lost in their own plots and conspiracies."

The spirit nodded. "As expected. What of the other Changing Breeds?"

"The Ajaba, Ananasi, Camazotz, Nagah, Ratkin and Rokea are all ready to attack," Greyback reported. "Factions within the Bastet and Mokole could well be persuadable and my people are working on them. In my opinion, the Kitsune and Nuwisha are too unpredictable to be worth the effort. Only the Gurahl fully support the Council, along with the bulk of the Bastet and Mokole. No one is sure where the Corax stand . . . not even the Corax themselves."

He changed subjects. "Lord Raith of the White Court will remain allied with us only so long as it remains in his best interests to do so. The Black Court is willing to exchange their allegiance for assistance with certain rituals. They have contacts with many daemons from other dimensions to bring to the table, so I recommend we humor them. The Red Court wasn't quite as destroyed in their war with the White Council as first believed, but neither are they in any position to be of any use to our cause. Far fewer than a hundred of them survive and none have the years or experience their predecessors possessed."

Lucius actually smiled. "They might still be useful, even if only as a distraction or scapegoat. I'll look into the possibilities and see what I can come up with."

"Excellent," Apocalypse responded. "What of the giants and their ilk? Are they still with us?"

Greyback nodded. "The giants, trolls and ogres were badly burned twelve years ago, but still blame the White Council for their troubles, not us. They'll be cautious at first, but once they see any real sign of success on our part, they'll back us again. They really have no other options. The centaurs, unfortunately, remain loyal to the Council and the minotaurs have been convinced to join them, along with the satyrs. They'll not be easily persuaded to rejoin us, but are little enough of a loss."

He paused. "The gnomes and goblins, of course, remain carefully neutral; siding with neither side, working with both and betraying neither. The same is true for the dwarves. Sentient dragons, of course, are dangerous to even try to deal with, but fortunately have little to no organization and therefore pose little to no threat to us. My people, however, are training a great many beast dragons for service, along with thestrals, hippogryphs, griffons, basilisks, cockatrices and others. Properly charmed and trained, they will be both valuable and expendable."

The Dark Lord was pleased. "I've personally made contact with Queen Mab of the Winter Court. Negotiations are slow, but promising. She wishes the destruction of the Summer Court. We wish the subjugation or destruction of the Council, mudbloods and muggles. It's a careful balance. Lucius, I want you to take over negotiations. Get Andromeda Starsmore to assist you. She has enough fae blood in her veins to understand how they think."

Malfoy considered the situation soberly and at some length for several seconds. "It will be a difficult task, my lord, but Andi's presence should tilt the balance enough in my favor; particularly when it comes to the wording of the agreement. While we can depend on the fae to stick to the letter of their promises, we can even more reliably depend on them twisting those agreements every bit they can to their own purposes. If we leave them even a most miniscule opening and they get a mind to, they'll destroy us with it."

Apocalypse had faith. "That's why you're my most valued servant, Lucius."

He hadn't said most loyal or favorite or even most dependable. Both men knew the Dark Lord's words were precisely and carefully chosen; carrying multiple levels of meaning.

The five Champions team stood on the platform, staring at the wondrous, bright red, antique seeming steam engine that was the Academy Express. Suddenly, Buffy was assaulted by a auburn haired torpedo in pink overalls that they all knew well. Willow had a somewhat bemused young man in toe. The two were quite a pair. Both practically had geeky outcast tattooed on their foreheads.

"Buffy!" Willow started talking a mile a minute. "I told you all about my best friend. This is Xander Harris and we've been friends forever. He couldn't come to our summer session because he had to attend an absolutely horrible family reunion. Xander, this is my new friend, Buffy, that I told you about and her friends, Clarise, Harry, Helen and Peter. They've all been great to me even though they're Champions and I'm a Defender."

Xander laughed. "Easy, Wills. Breathe. When she get's excited, she sometimes forgets little things like that."

"I do not!" Willow blushed. "Well, maybe sometimes."

Harry smiled and offered Xander his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Xander. Defender or not, Willow's become a good friend to us all. So what are your powers?"

Xander shook hands. "Willow told me so much about each of you that it's almost like I know you. My powers are pretty cool. If I watch anyone do something . . . anything, I can do it. I watch a martial arts master, I become a master of their art. I watch a soldier disassemble and reassemble a firearm, I can do it with my eyes closed. If I watch a surgeon perform micro-surgery using the most advanced surgical equipment out there, I can use that equipment and perform that surgery as well as he can. The only limit on it is that I have to actually watch the person. Tapes or recordings don't work. Professor Xavier says I'm a very specialized telepath."

Helen perked up. "How long do you keep the skills?"

Xander shrugged. "Haven't lost any yet. The Professor says I'll eventually lose what I don't practice, or at least they'll atrophy, but that's the truth with any skill. In the meantime, I'm really good with swords, guns and martial arts, and I make a killer cappuccino."

"Man after my own heart," Buffy laughed. "Okay, people, like Admiral Kirk said in Frisco, stop standing around looking like a Starfleet review; spread out and blend."

They'd agreed early on that they would spread out and use the trip to get to know as many people as they could; making ties to the other teams and possibly meeting new potential Champions. Buffy took off with Willow and Xander. Peter and Clarise took the opportunity to separately find early seats on the train. Helen looked a little lost, but eventually stirred up her courage and headed off, leaving Harry alone.

With most of his belongings already at the school and his change of clothes in his bag of holding, the only luggage Harry was carrying was the pet carrier with Jinx. He couldn't very well leave the little dracati alone for four whole hours, of course. There might not be much of a school left for them to come back to. Now safely away from prying muggle eyes, he let her out and deposited the carrier in the small bag with the rest of his stuff.

As Jinx capered around getting into every new thing she could find, Harry looked over the beautiful red classic steam engine with it's gold metalwork. The train wasn't scheduled to pull out for several more minutes, so he wasn't in a hurry. Then he realized he'd lost track of her. He didn't panic, he figured she was just on the other side of the engine or something. Walking around the front of the train, he was confronted by one of the last people he expected to find.

"Mr. Black?" His voice caught the man by surprise.

"Harry." Sirius turned around to reveal that he was holding and petting a purring and contented Jinx. "Well I certainly bollixed that up. Please, my boy, call me Sirius or even Padfoot. I hear Mr. Black, I expect to see my father coming around a corner and look for a place to hide."

Harry smiled. "What are you doing here?"

Sirius' eyes twinkled as Jinx flitted almost reluctantly from his arms and back onto Harry's shoulder. "Why, Harry, I'm not here. None of us are. There's no reason for us to be, of course."

Harry figured it out quickly. "The Professor asked you and some others to keep an eye on me, didn't he?"

There was no way Sirius was going to give him a straight answer. "Now can you think of any possible reason why he would decide to do something like that?"

Harry nodded. "Well, since you aren't here, I guess I couldn't have seen you, then could I."

Sirius draped an arm around the boy's shoulder. "That would appear to be the case. You really should be getting on board. Since there's no one here watching out for you, there's no telling what kind of trouble you might get into if you missed the train."

Harry hugged his godfather, then headed back to the boarding side of the train. As he was heading to board, he saw a family he couldn't miss. They all had painfully red hair and looked the spitting image of the young man he met at Gringott's.

"George," the woman said sternly. "Stop harassing your sister."

"I'm not George, Mom," the tall boy just a couple years older than Harry insisted. "I'm Fred."

Harry smiled broadly as he stepped boldly forward with no thought of what he was doing. "You HAVE to be the Wesley family. I met Bill at Gringott's and he told me all about you. My name's Harry . . . Harry Potter."

Mrs. Wesley squeaked. The twins looked at each other with chaos in their hearts. The boy about Harry's age went bug eyed. The only girl in the family almost tried to disappear behind her father. Mr. Wesley stepped forward to shake Harry's hand.

"Of course you are," he said pumping Harry's hand enthusiastically. "I must say it's a distinct pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. Bill told us all about meeting you, but we could hardly believe it. He was extremely impressed with you and I can well see why."

"Arthur," Mrs. Wesley interceded, gently admonishing her husband, "you're going to shake the boy's arm off. Yes. You're Harry, alright. You're the spitting image of your father, that's for sure. It's so nice to meet you. We have five of our seven at Xavier's this year. Percy is team leader of Youngblood. Fred and George are determined to out do your father and his friends on the Marauders. Ron and Ginny are just starting this year and haven't been sorted yet. For the first time in more than twenty years, Arthur and I won't have a bunch of kids around the house. I don't know what we're going to do."

Arthur embraced his wife from behind. "Make some more? What do you think, Molly?"

Several of the Wesley looked like they couldn't decide whether to gag or laugh. Mrs. Wesley blushed and slapped her husband playfully. Arthur just stood there looking innocent and kissed her hair.

"Eww." Ron grimaced. "Gross. Do you guys have to do that in public? It's embarrassing."

Arthur laughed and mussed the boy's hair. Molly grabbed his face and kissed his cheek. The twins chortled evilly. Percy tried to pretend he wasn't related to these people. Ginny giggled. Harry felt just the slightest twinge of envy as he marveled at the wonders of large families. Then the train whistle blew, however, and it was time to board the train. Harry didn't even have a chance to ask about the comment regarding his father. That would have to wait for later.

In a nondescript building somewhere in Manhattan, Col. John Wraith, Military Operations Director of the Initiative looked over the reports coming in from the various train stations he'd assigned men to watch. Only the team sent to Union Station in Los Angeles had failed to report and remained out of contact despite all protocols and contact attempts. He picked up his phone and called the Initiative's leader, Rev. William Stryker.

"Report." Stryker picked up before the second ring finished.

"No luck." Wraith told him. "All units but one have reported back. There's been no sign of the Potter boy. They probably sent him to Los Angeles. That unit hasn't reported and can't be reached. Unfortunately, given the lengths we've already seen these people are willing to go to protect the brat, we'll have to write the LA team off as lost. Given that my old friend Weapon X was spotted during the fight Friday, we know he's connected with this school in some way. This has his name written all over it; fast, brutal, no evidence, no witnesses."

Stryker nodded. "So far our new ally's information, although unquestionably accurate, has managed to do little more than cost us a lot of men and equipment. We've lost nearly fifty operatives and only have the deaths of two race traitors to show for it. Not the best return for our investment."

Wraith let his distaste slip into his tone. "I advised against trusting that sorceror from the beginning. We should have taken him and turned him over to Colcord and his researchers."

Stryker wasn't put off, or if he was, he kept it to himself. "That might have been the more prudent path, but it wouldn't have been the right one. Without our temporary ally's information, we wouldn't have known of the existence of this boy, Potter. You saw the reports from the survivors. The boy's power is astounding. We know the risk Apocalypse posed, not only to their community, but to ours. Until now, we didn't know what happened to him. If this boy did manage to destroy him, and everything Xavier and his people have done supports the claim, he's a force to be dealt with and a weapon I intend to control. That alone is worth the cost."

He paused and his tone became a bit more conciliatory. "Have no fear, my old friend. Once Malfoy has outlived his usefulness, I'll happily hand him to you on a platter to do with as you please. Until that day, better we use him for all he's worth. In the meantime, send me the names of the agents we lost in Los Angeles. I'll want to contact their families personally and make arrangements for their survivor benefits. It's the least I can do."

Wraith understood. "I'll send the information to you computer. I'll also add their names to the growing list of names of lives Weapon X will one day have to pay for. I've lost too many good men to that little psychopath. I should have killed him when I had the chance. That's partly why our involvement with Malfoy concerns me so much. Dealing with those people never ends well for us."

**Writer's Notes:**

**For school uniforms, I crossed the public uniforms of Xavier's with the wizards robes of Hogwarts. In considering team colors, I decided to give the Champions the Gryffindor colors of Scarlet and Gold. I also gave Alpha Team the X-Men's Navy and Gold, and the Hellions, of course, got Slytherin's Green and Silver. All the other teams have their colors, which will be revealed in due course. The Marauder colors are particularly . . . interesting.**

**The mirror in Lucius Malfoy's office is definitely not the Mirror of Erised. Since I'm not using Quirrell and don't think for a moment that a telepath of Xavier's abilities would be fooled by such a ploy (I find it almost as hard to believe that someone of Dumbledore's abilities would have been fooled, but that's another matter) I needed a different way for Apocalypse (my version of Voldemort) to survive. Each of the core Deatheaters has a similar mirror somewhere safely ensconced in their residences so Apocalypse can speak to them as needed. These mirrors help to anchor his shade to this realm. He has several other means of interacting with the world, of course, but those will be revealed in future chapters.**

**This chapter also presents information on several of the various other factions in the story. The Brotherhood, AIM, HYDRA and the Hellfire Club are all Marvel, while the White Court is from the Dresdenverse. As stated in previous notes, the Black Court, although it's name is from Dresden, is more from the Buffyverse.**

**Grindelwald is a previous Dark Lord referenced in the Potter books. Dumbledore took him out well before Tom Riddle came on the scene. How he became Apocalypse's mentor in my story will be revealed in future chapters. I will say this much, however, the mirrors used in this chapter aren't new.**

**I needed a story based reason to have the train. Ms. Rowling's' explanation worked fine for Britain. The presence of London Station makes everything nice and neat. In the US, of course, that wouldn't work nearly as well. I wanted to have the train ride, though. Since I was incorporating the Nevernever into the train system, already, I decided to incorporate it into the reasoning. I hope you enjoyed my solution.**

**The multiple variants of werewolves have sources that include World of Darkness, Harry Potter and Harry Dresden. The Loup Garou (those cursed to become monsters under a full moon, although some like Greyback have embraced their curse and learned to access their bestial abilities at will) are from Dresden (Fool Moon), as are Hexenwolves (skinchangers who get their powers from foul talismans) and Lycanthropes (who don't change physically, but are possessed by monstrous spirits that give them great physical attributes and ferocity). For my story, I decided to merge the Hexenwolves with the Black Spiral Dancers from World of Darkness. It seemed a natural pairing. It should also be noted that as with Hexenwolves and Lycanthropes, Loup Garou is a scholarly classification and not a part of the daily lives of people who consider themselves werewolves; much to the chagrin and displeasure of those changers who rightfully consider themselves to be true werewolves.**

**The other Changing Breeds mentioned are all from World of Darkness. They are: Ajaba (hyenas), Ananasi (spiders), Camazotz (bats), Nagah (snakes), Ratkin (rats), Rokea (sharks), Bastet (cats), Mokole (alligators), Kitsune (foxes), Nuwisha (coyotes), Gurahl (bears) and Corax (ravens). I'm uncertain how many of these will play much of a role in the future, but figure they're around and could, so I reference them. For more info on any of the World of Darkness material, just check their Wiki, but don't be surprised if I deviate from the canon.**

**Finally, in this chapter, I introduce William Stryker and John Wraith from the various X-Men realms. Since their various organizations have been integrated into the Initiative, they have as well. Colcord is Malcolm Colcord and he's the Initiative's Head of Deviant Research. They experiment on captured mutants and when possible turn them into weapons. Others will be introduced in future chapters.**

**Next chapter we have the train ride and the sorting ceremony. We may ever start classes.**

**Special Note:**

**Something I need to note. The previous six chapters were written over a period of a couple years. This one was about a quarter finished before I even released them. This is an exercise I do. I'm a semi-professional writer working on a series of novels that start with six perspectives on a four month period that changes the world forever. When I have a bout of writer's block, I work on a project like this or one of a half dozen other fan stories I have in various stages of completion. Therefore, there may well be months, if not longer, between chapters. One promise: however much time may pass between chapters, I'm not going to abandon this project. I will complete it. It may just take a while. In the meantime, enjoy.**


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